Attack on Guyver
by GodzillaFollower1998
Summary: "A story? Well, okay. How shall I start it? Hmm…How about, once upon a time- Bleh, no, that's such a cliché. Uh…In the beginning- Oh no, if I start there, you'll fall asleep before the story truly starts! Oh, wait, I know! How about I start this story on the day everything changed…" Crossover AU, multiple pairings. (Rewrite of Attack On Titan: The Warriors of Light and Darkness)
1. Prologue(s)

**Hello, and welcome to Attack on Guyver!**

 **Yes, this is the remake of my previous story, Attack On Titan: The Warriors of Light and Darkness. That also makes it the second** **Attack on Titan/Guyver story on this site!**

 **If you are a new fan, then I welcome you to this story and hope that you enjoy it!**

 **If you're an old fan, then p** **repare** **for a _lot_ of new stuff!**

 **To start this rewrite off, we begin with something completely different: A prologue! And not just one, but three!**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer - I don't own Attack on Titan, it all belongs to Kodansha. I also don't own Guyver, it all belongs to Kadokawa Shoten. I only own my OCs.**

* * *

 _"In the beginning, it was all black and white."_ Maureen O'Hara.

* * *

Three Prologues, Three Boys

* * *

 _"A story? Well, okay. Now, how shall I start it? Hmm…How about, once upon a time…"_

* * *

 **Shiganshina District - Wall Maria**

 **842**

The Wall loomed.

Sitting by the canal's bank, Eren Yeager looked up at the Wall that surrounded his home town. He looked past the top of the Wall, at the sky high above. Clouds were dusted about like powdered sugar on treats and the wind washed over his skin warmly and gently.

It was a fine day.

Eren heaved a sigh.

He was outrageously bored.

It was a fine day, but it was also an uneventful one. Nothing was happening, and nothing was going on. So far, he had gone through the usual motions that he would on any other day

This annoyed him.

Everything was so— _routine_.

And so, with an abundant amount of free time on his hands, he had gone off to be alone. There was nothing else to do.

He had followed no particular direction, no particular path, only the wind and listened until sounds became distant and far away. He moved and followed the canal until he came upon this quiet area of Shiganshina, not too far from the outer gate.

Eren had briefly pondered why the canal extended as far as it did into Shiganshina, considering that there was no gate that allowed the boats out of the town, before losing interest. Who cared? Probably some stupid grown-up reason.

He sighed again, a little rougher this time.

Not only was Eren bored, but he also felt a peculiar sense of irritation.

This anger had been present for some time now, an annoying little fire that had yet to go out. Refused to go out. Eren wasn't sure where it had come from, but it existed within him none the less, flaring at certain moments. When he fought the bullies who hurt Armin. When people dismissed the Survey Corps, people who fought the Titans when others didn't. It came in sudden, unexpected bursts from comments people made that he could not accept, even from his mother and father.

It shimmered in him now, as he stared up at the pristine Wall. Where it not for the Wall, Eren imagined that he would have a view of a fresh green land under a clear blue sky that would span for miles and miles. As it stood now, he only had a cropped view of the sky.

Eren scowled. He was bored and irritated and he needed to do _something_ because he kept feeling like he needed to _break_ something.

Why couldn't anything _interesting_ happen?

"Eren! _There_ you are!"

With a jolt of surprise, Eren wondered if there was indeed a God listening to prays. He turned his head, green eyes meeting the familiar form of his friend.

There was an odd bounce in Armin Artlet's steps as he trotted over to Eren, a large book held near protectively to his chest.

"What's up, Armin?"

"This!" Armin crowed, holding out the book with both hands. He seemed to be barely able to contain himself. "My grandpa had it hidden away. Believe it or not, this book is all about the outside world!

"The outside world?!" Eren's shock quickly turned into irritation. If this was Armin attempt at a joke, then he wasn't laughing. It was a well-known fact that everything and anything to do with the outside world was considered a taboo and to so much as speak about it was to be branded a heretic.

Armin should have been well aware of all this. He was, after all, super smart.

So it came as quite a surprise to Eren when the blonde, instead of reacting with worry or fear, proclaimed passionately. "This is much more important than that!" He dropped to his knees before Eren and the boy leaned back slightly, put off by the gleam in his friend's blue eyes. "Listen, according to this book, most of the world is covered by saltwater so deep you can't reach the bottom! There's even a name for it too; they call it the sea!"

The words hit Eren like a hammer to the brain and he sat up, spine rigid. "S-salt?!" He couldn't believe it. He tried to imagine it, but his mind failed to produce an image to the words Armin said. No, Eren dismissed, that couldn't be possible. It had to be a lie. Such a thing couldn't exist.

Besides, everyone and their great-uncle knew that if it were true, then merchants would have drained it away for supplies already.

Armin seemed to have expected such a response because he eagerly countered Eren's words. "No, that's the thing! The sea's so massive that it can never be depleted!"

Eren stared at Armin, disbelieving. A warm breath of air washed over them. He then snorted, tried to smile. "That's just silly…"

But the gleam in Armin's eyes never dimmed. There was no doubt or hint of deception.

Armin meant every word.

And in no time at all, the book was laid down between them and Armin was happily pointing and explaining everything else that existed past the Walls. Water that glowed like fire, fields of ice, plains of sand and giant rocks that took days to climb.

And with each new thing, Eren felt the Walls grow just a little larger. A little more encaging.

And the fire in his heart flared and burnt his soul.

Finally, it all made sense.

Finally, he understood.

He was trapped. They were trapped, all of them. Every person behind the Walls was locked away from a world that could offer them so much more. A world which had been lost to them for a century. A world they could never hope to take back

A world lost to the Titans.

The Titans. He hated the Titans. Hated everything about them. Eren felt something akin to a fist squeezing the breath from his lungs. The Titans. Those slobbering, dead-eyed, evil _monsters_ —

The flame was now an inferno, festering under his skin.

He would kill them; he would _kill them all-!_

"Eren…" Armin's voice, soft and full with an unusual firm determination, brought Eren back to reality. He looked up, but his friend's eyes were on the book, seeing something Eren couldn't. "I hope, one day…that we'll get to explore the outside world."

The words crystallised in Eren's mind. _'We.'_ Armin had not expressed a desire he wished to own alone, but one that he wanted to share with Eren. Where it anyone else, even himself, Eren knew he would not be so willing to share such a dream.

It warmed his heart that Armin was, but at the same time, there was anger.

Anger, because Eren didn't know how they would be able to achieve such a dream. There was so much that stood against them: Titans, the Walls, people. The latter Eren could deal with, possibly, but the former two required more than he could give.

But Armin's dream was beautiful, a brilliant secret that he was willing to share, and Eren wanted to repay this selfless kindness. Even if it was the last thing he did.

Not too far from them, a bell rang out. Eren's ears perked up at the sound and he tore his gaze away from the book and Armin. He knew what the bell meant. Everyone in Shiganshina did.

The Survey Corps had returned.

And it was the most curious thing that Eren then realised that amidst the dangers that the Scouts faced, they went past the Walls on a monthly bases. The Survey Corps saw the outside world, or at least, as much of it as they could before they were forced to return to the Walls. He reflected on how they were the only ones willing to take a stand, to fight the Titans in their taken lands while others hide behind the comfort of the Walls.

People like those whose comments enraged Eren so, spitting on the efforts of those brave people who risked their lives.

People like those in Wall Sina, who probably had not a care in the world to the threat that stomped about beyond Wall Maria.

People like Hannes and his friends, who spent most of their time drinking and messing around.

People like himself.

Shame burned Eren before he fought it away, feeling the fire kindled in his chest.

Suddenly, he was not so bored, and life was not so aimless.

Eren gave his friend a smile that belonged on a wolf. "We will, Armin. I'll make sure we do!"

He knew what he had to do now.

The only way forward, the only way to freedom, the only way for him and Armin to see the sea was through the Survey Corps

* * *

 _"Bleh, no, that's such a cliché. Uh, in the beginning…"_

* * *

 **London – England**

A harsh wind washed down the street.

Grimacing, Joshua Martin hunched his shoulders and closed his eyes. His right hand laid over the pages of his book while his left secured its grip. Underneath his skin, he felt the pages fluttered like a bird's pulse.

Once the wind past, Josh sighed and smoothed his ruffled hair. The paperback folded close, his thumb an ersatz bookmark. Once he was satisfied, he quickly got back to reading.

England was renowned throughout the world for its less than cheerful weather. Stereotyped for its constant rain and constant chill. But when it was warm, it got warm. Today was a perfect example in the height of spring. As the sun gave the country a much-needed swell of warmth, it made staying in his front room nigh impossible. To sit there was to collect sweat and become uncomfortable, and Josh really had no desire for either.

When one lacked a garden, as well as had parents with busy and time-consuming jobs, one made do with what they had. Sitting out on the uppermost steps of his home, he must have looked quite the sight. Sitting there alone, with nought but a book.

Cars rushed by and the odd person trotted along but Josh paid them no mind, too immersed in the universe unfolding before him as his eyes rolled over the pages. The sun was warm on his skin but the occasional gale cooled him.

He was currently enjoying a particular favourite of his. The fourth and final book in a series and it was, without question, the best of all of them.

The first had been terrible, poorly written with bad characters, a horrible start that left a bitter taste in his mouth.

The second had been a massive improvement, with a stronger plot and better characters. It was also historical, which was a huge plus for him.

The third had been a simple but pleasant story, basic, really, in plot and structure, but with enough gruesome imagery and intrigue to keep him thoroughly entertained.

But this one, the final book, made all three pale in comparison. Ironic, really, that the series would have such a bad start but end so strongly.

How many times had he read this book? There was no answer because Joshua often returned to the start of the book once he had finished reading it.

His eyes trailed over the paragraphs of one of his many favourite moments of the novel. The Villain had separated the Hero and the Companion and now the Companion was spiralling into the Villain's chessboard. As she fell, the Companion was broken down and reconstructed, having to fight to keep the idea of herself together.

Josh loved this part because there came a moment where the Companion had the choice to be like everyone else, to be part of a world she didn't belong in, yet she chooses the pain of being an outcast. She chose to be herself. Josh admired that, respected that.

Then there was the immediate part following, where she collected herself through the love she felt for the Hero. Between a blurb of words that she used defined him and a brilliant metaphor for his goodness (A thorny rose, beautiful but deadly), there came a line that had stuck with Josh long after he read the book the first time. One of many that kept drawing him back:

 _"Here was something beyond herself which she cared for terribly, and painfully. Something that could never be part of a crowd."_

Josh loved that line. Loved this book. Admired the Hero's goodness and emphasised with the Companion's strife. But that line, that one sentence in the entire book, always gave him a moment's pause.

He murmured, "Something that could never be part of a crowd."

In the corner of his eye, Josh caught sight of a small group of children around his age walking up the street. All of them in similar uniforms. Glancing at his watch, he realised how much time had gone by. It was now the time that public schools ended.

Josh returned his gaze to his book and waited for them to pass, a horrible prickling sense of dread filling him. It was only after they had passed his home, playing him no mind at all as they chattered about obnoxious teachers and things to do now that they were free of the timetable, that he allowed himself to relax and take a stabilising breath.

In place of his dread came a dull ache, nestling in his heart like a stone.

Josh watched them go, reflecting. There went a crowd that he would never be a part of. With a sting of pain, he remembered moments where a simple extension of the hand of friendship had been slapped aside with scorn or ridicule. Other times had ended with physical pain. Though he tried to mingle, he did not belong among them. He did not like the things they liked, sports and pop stars, and they did not like the things he liked, books and soft music.

So Josh stayed away, stayed with his books and the escape they offered, the passageways into worlds and lives far more colourful than his own. He stayed with the people he knew but, while on good terms with his neighbours, they would never be friends in the proper sense. Too much time between, too much not understood by both parties. The bane of being the only child in a neighbourhood with older people.

He stood alone.

And it was after he read this book, this book of good triumphing over evil despite seemingly impossible odds, that Josh wondered: Was there someone out there, waiting for him? Someone who, like himself, did not belong? Who was not part of the crowd? Where they, together, could make their own crowd?

Joshua scoffed, bitterness curling his lips into a smile. He was being silly.

The book he was reading was a work of fiction, a fantasy that would never be real. Nothing about it was true. The Hero was an impossible person who could never exist and though the Companion could be real, people like her often got help. Even at the expense of themselves. To get such silly notions from one sentence was ludicrous, the high of stupidity.

And besides, he could never be like either the Hero or the Companion. He lacked the Hero's conviction to fight for a cause and the Companion's strength of character. He wouldn't have been able to last a second, doing the things they did. He would never be good enough.

Joshua Martin could never be a hero.

With a sigh, a heavy ache in his heart, Josh closed the book and rose to his feet. He pulled his house key from his pocket and went back inside his home. The sun no longer gave him warmth.

* * *

 _"Oh no, if I start there, you'll fall asleep before the story truly starts!"_

* * *

 **Washington DC – America**

The room was cold and still.

A few days ago, the room would have been warm with character and life. Now, it was a corpse of its former self.

The antique desk drawers were barren, the bed was stripped of sheets, and all personal materials had been either boxed away or thrown away.

All but this one thing, given to him long ago. In what felt like another life.

Estevan Martinez stared down at the medal in his hand.

He stood alone in the cold and empty room, moonlight pouring through the window, staring down at the medal that had passed onto him. A token of love, a gesture to help him strive towards his goal.

The medal had the image of a woman in Greek clothing, standing upon a warrior's helmet with the sun rising behind it. In her hands was a broken sword, the blade snapped in half. Inscribed on either side of the woman were the words World War II.

Estevan looked down at the simple, carved piece of metal and remembered the honour and duty that it signified. The bravery and sacrifice it represented. The awe it had brought forth in him when he had first seen it and the joy when it had been placed into his hands. Now, as he looked at it, he was only reminded of the bleak, black despair of unendurable loss.

Estevan was no stranger to pain. Eight years old he may have been, he was already quite familiar with pain. Physical pain was easy to deal with, always had. He always walked away from scuffles with neighbouring kids bruising but undaunted, pain forgotten in the satisfaction of victory. This feeling, though, like burning knives sinking into his heart, was new.

He hadn't imagined in all the world that pain like this existed.

These past few weeks had been a cornucopia of despair and chaos and Estevan knew things were only going to get worse long before they got better. Things might never get better again. Everyone was in a panic; those that weren't were still mourning the dead. Mourning those lost in the tragedy.

And the people in power? They were doing nothing, sitting by with their thumbs up their asses while the rest of them suffered in terror. While those who had committed this vile, hideous action were still alive somewhere. Perhaps plotting for their next time to strike.

The very thought sent a ripple of fury through his being, like the shudder born from a distant crash of thunder. His hands curled into fists, the pin of the medal sinking into his flesh. Estevan felt no pain.

It sickened him to know that such monstrous people lived in the same world as he. Lived and went on unpunished, were not slaughtered for their crimes. Those who had individual power of their own, who could have fought back, did nothing for they were slaves to those who had the power. Slaves to rules, codes, and shit like _honour_ and _justice,_ but what was the point of those things when people had been _throwing_ themselves out the windows?

Fury mixed potently with shame because he wanted to be one of those people, someone who answered to a higher authority. He had wanted to be that ever since he had understood the words honour, prestige and duty. Ever since he had been told he had the potential to be a great one. Had always thought how awesome it would be to stand shoulder to shoulder with them, clad in the same uniform, gaining the same medals like-

He killed the thought when the pain stabbed deeper into his heart.

It was so clear to him now, the flaws of his desire. The trap. If he became like them, then he would sacrifice his free will. He would be forced to obey the words of another even when his gut told him to go another way, forced him to fight a pointless battle when the _real_ fight was happening somewhere else. He would become a faceless individual without any identity, another lamb to a senseless slaughter.

He would lose _himself_.

And once he had no orders, no direction, no command, he would halt, like a wind-up toy whose motor had run down. Become stagnate. And finally die, shamefully, just like-

"FUCK!" With a furious shout, the medal flew from his hand and sailed through the air, colliding with the full body mirror on the wall. The mirror cracked.

Heaving, Estevan stared at his shattered reflection. Took in his loosen tie and unbutton shirt, his black trousers incomplete without the black suit. Blood dripped off the tip of his right middle finger, trailing lazily from the mark of the medal's pin. The moonlight fell across his face and sat in his eyes in blurs of red.

As he stared at himself, through blurred eyes, he felt the rage kindle. He was familiar with anger, his sole companion whenever he engaged in a fight, but not like this. It was a distant feeling, this rage, something he was aware of but not the immediate focus of his mind. Something that was there but easily ignored.

It was like watching a storm from a window. Watching a tornado tear apart a neighbourhood from a safe distance. The fire burning a few scant feet away. Awe-inspiring in its terribleness. Beautiful in its deadliness. Perfect in its purity.

Estevan felt his rage seethe like a brewing storm. Felt grounded, felt present, felt free from the pain that had been clinging to him like a parasite for the last few hours.

Looking at his reflection, at the stranger staring back at him, Estevan felt calmness descend upon him and his breathing levelled.

He uttered a single word, voice rough from hours of disuse, "Never."

He understood now, as he pawed roughly at his eyes. At long last, he finally understood.

There was nothing wrong with him, his anger, and no need for order or conformity if the world itself would not conform. Those ideas that had been put into his head, that his anger needs direction towards a greater cause, that he needed to stop acting out and be like everyone else, had been proven for the hollow lies that they were.

And besides, he already had a cause of sorts. A path of direction for his anger. One he had been following for as long as he could remember. One he may have been _born_ with: There was evil in the world, and it had to be fought. No matter what form it took, no matter the cost.

Too much has been allowed, too many victimised and crippled by this terrible tragedy and the laws of their government. Held back by shackles that only existed within the mind, beaten into by years of commissioning. No one was willing to take matters into their own hands because they believed it was _wrong_.

But he knew the truth: there was no sin in seeking vengeance, a pound of flesh for a pound of flesh, and he was done fretting over the little details that ultimately meant nothing in the end. He won't compromise, and he won't let anything else govern him. Laws, rules, chain of command, nothing.

He won't be like a solider.

"Never again."

Because bad people deserve the worst kind of punishment for hurting the lives of innocent people. Deserved to suffer as much as they had made others suffer. People deserve to live without fear or the threat of death looming overhead. Because victims deserved their retribution, be they the dead or those left behind, because they deserved more than to be brushed asides as mere statistics.

They were entitlements that too many others had allowed to be lost. He would not make the same mistakes.

Here, alone in the dark, where there wasn't anyone to force him to cloak himself in illusions of stupidity and self-delusion like the rest, Estevan Martinez rediscovered himself. His purpose, his life.

He would fight the only fight worth fighting, by no other's belief but his own. For no one but himself.

He would be _himself_.

He turned away, leaving the medal on the ground of the cold and empty room as he closed the door behind. He never once looked back.

* * *

 _"Oh, wait, I know! How about I start this story on the day that everything changed…"_

* * *

 **So, this was a thing.**

 **Honestly, I'm Just glad I got this out near the deadline I set myself. Little bit late, but still here.**

 **I'm not sure where I got the idea to do this, but it quickly became appealing to me the more I thought of it. To show the three main boys before they meet each other, before they go through the tragedies that shape their lives, I thought would make for a great show of contrast come the end. If I ever get there...**

 **Eren's one, yes, is based on the flashback in Episode 5. I also used elements from the manga of the same scene, specifically Eren's skepticism to believe Armin.**

 **Also, for those who are curious, the book Joshua is reading is Timewyrm: Revelation by Paul Cornell. It's the fourth and final book of the Timewyrm saga in the Doctor Who Virgin New Adventures. It's one of my favorite novels and I highly recommend it to any fan of Doctor Who and even to those who aren't fans.**

 **Nothing else to say here except I hope you enjoyed it and look forward to the next chapter. It will be out very soon!**


	2. Opening One (Guren no Yumiya)

**A little something I had a friend do for me because I thought: why the hell not?**

* * *

[Sie sind das Essen und Wir sind die Jaeger!]

A stone wall with the image of Wall Maria, right before exploding and being replaced with the title card (Attack on Guyver), with a painted Yin Yang symbol behind it. The painting is wet and dripping black and white, mingling together.

[Fumareta hana no namae mo shirazu ni]

The scene changes to a field, ODM Gear, swords and dead bodies of fallen soldiers, with black and white flashing frequently, and the members of the Scout Regiment.

[Chi ni ochita tori wa kaze wo machiwabiru]

The camera switches over to the sombre faces of Eren, Mikasa and Armin but they aren't alone. Guyver Yin (Joshua Martin), is seen standing in between Eren and Armin, while Guyver Yang (Estevan Martinez), is in between Eren and Mikasa. The two Guyvers and Mikasa look at Eren.

[Inotta tokoro de nani mo kawaranai]

We then see a swarm of Titans attacking the Trost District, causing chaos and havoc upon the land.

[Ima wo kaeru no wa tatakau kakugo da...]

Eren with the other trainees, saluting as the camera focused on his determined expression, switching over to the Guyvers standing on a cliff with Yang's arms crossed whilst his brother stands neutral. The camera focuses on their faces.

[Shikabane fumikoete susumu ishi wo warau buta yo]

An image of an inactive Guyver Unit, then right foot of Guyver Yin, the left arm of Guyver Yang with a clenched fist, the waist of Guyver Yin with the Gravity Control orb glowing and finally the Control Metal of Guyver Yang flashing brightly.

[Kachiku no annei ...kyogi no han'ei ...shiseru garou "Jiyuu" wo!]

The top of Wall Rose exploding into huge chunks of rock, amidst the debris is Eren, falling, only to be caught by the Guyvers, Yin on his right and Yang on his left. The two brothers give a confident nod, to which Eren returns a grin before being launched back in the air, into the flaring sun.

[Torawareta kutsujoku wa hangeki no koushi da Jouheki no sono kanata emono wo hofuru Jaeger]

Eren flying through the streets of Trost, using his ODM Gear, maneuvering around the buildings. Switch to Guyver Yang throwing a roundhouse kick at a Titan, crashing it into a building. Guyver Yin fighting a Titan via Wing Chung, two strong palm thrusts to its chest, a flurry of punches to the torso and a right palm thrust to the chin. Back to Eren, who flies high in the air, spins like a saw blade, and slices the nape of a Titan's neck.

[Hotobashiru shoudou ni sono mi wo yaki nagara]

The top of Wall Maria, soldiers firing their cannons at the Titans, another scene of an elevator full of soldiers firing at a group of smaller Titans, then of the Guyvers running and leaping for atop of Wall Rose.

[Tasogare ni hi wo ugatsu guren no yumiya]

The Guyvers and Eren on the wall, running towards a plume of steam and leaping into the air, towards the Colossal Titan. The scene shifts to a portal opening, Estevan and Joshua falling through into a blast of dirt. The cloud fades and we can see their mixed expressions of worry and grim determination. Then the flag of the Scout Regiment, with the red and blue symbols of the Guyvers, then Yin jumping over a building, with Yang next to him, and all the members of the Scouts following their lead.

The shadowed forms of the Titans looming ahead, the Scouts flying across the air while the Guyvers grow to the size of the Titans, then separate angled shots showed Mikasa, Armin, the Guyvers and lastly Eren.

Them standing together in a grassy field, gazing at the sky, before the screen went black.

* * *

 **BIG shout out to Asura94, who did this for me. Seriously, he wrote the whole thing, I just cleaned it up a little. Major thanks, my brother, major thanks!**

 **Good look him up and give him and his stories some love!**


	3. Chapter One

**And here we are with Chapter One!**

 **Prepare** **for a _lot_ of new stuff!**

 **Enjoy!**

 **(This would have been out sooner, but there were a few last minute changes I made)**

 **Disclaimer - I don't own Attack on Titan, it all belongs to Kodansha. I also don't own Guyver, it all belongs to Kadokawa Shoten. I only own my OCs.**

* * *

 _"Sometimes things fall apart so that better things can fall together."_ Marilyn Monroe.

* * *

Chapter One: Beginnings and Ends

* * *

 **845**

* * *

This was the worst day of her life.

There was no doubt about this.

Only a sickening certainty that made Carla Yeager feel like her stomach was turning inside out.

She laid flat on her stomach, the weight of what had once been her home pressing down on her body as the afternoon breeze washed over her face. Her legs were cold and numb and Carla didn't need to see them to know that they wouldn't be able to be saved.

She was dead.

She was finished.

She could not escape and it would only be a matter of time before the Titans found her.

This was the end.

" _MOM!_ " Cutting through the cloud of hazy pain that polluted her mind, Carla's golden eyes opened in a mixture of relief and horror as her children came to her. She spoke their names in hushed whispers, watching blankly as they both tried to lift the wooden beam that kept her to the ground. Her son barked words to his sister, voice angry and desperate. His sister complied wordlessly and Carla wondered if she was the only one to notice the fear that radiated off her body.

Mothers tended to notice things like that.

Then came the footsteps. Deep, thundering, rattling the Earth.

 _THUMP!_

 _THUMP!_

 _THUMP!_

She didn't need to look to know that they had all been sighted and a new kind of fear enveloped her. Something cold and ugly. Something like what animals felt when cornered. Words were flying from her mouth, frantic, telling her son to run. She cried his name when he seemed to miss them.

"I want to more than anything!" He cried to the heavens, eyes shuts and face curled with effort. She could see him straining, the muscles in his neck taut, saw the blood on his blistered fingers and had to fight the near comical urge to tell him to be careful. He wouldn't have listened to her anyway. "But first I need you on your feet!"

Eren Yeager.

Her son.

Her fighter.

Her boy who wanted to be a soldier more than anything, her feelings on the matter be damned.

Carla felt despair take her heart into a fist so tight that it almost took the words from her throat. She managed anyway, quiet but firm, telling him that walking was now impossible for her and to take his sister and run. _To leave her behind._ And she could not help the anger in her voice to his stubborn response to _carry her_ of all things and begged, _begged_ him to listen to her. For once. At the same time, her daughter looked like she was trying hard not to cry.

Mikasa Ackerman.

Her adopted daughter.

Her son's watcher when she couldn't.

Her girl that her husband had brought home with him one day, completely out of the blue.

 _"Grisha-"_ His face flashed before her mind, kind, smart, loving. That despair now had her throat in a stranglehold, her eyes burning. The deafening footsteps, _THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!,_ grew closer _._ _"Where are you? I need you!_ We _need you! Grisha!"_

And then finally, help.

Hannes was an old friend and a good soldier, despite whatever derogatory thing her son said behind his back. He would listen to her, wouldn't he? He would do what she could not, wouldn't he? Without wasting a second as he came up to her, ignoring the grimness that clouded his expression, she told him to take her children and run.

And instead of doing that, he arrogantly rushed off to fight.

The fool!

The complete and utter _idiot!_

She'd have smacked him silly if she had any strength left in her body.

But then, just as she feared oblivion for her family, he was back. Without a glance at her, with what looked like the deepest of shame etched into his face, he grabbed Eren and Mikasa and ran. She thanked him as Eren screamed and cried all the while.

She screamed her love for her children.

Thrown over Hannes' shoulder like a sack of potatoes, Eren's expression broke her heart.

Suddenly, as the footsteps grew closer still, she realized that this was truly it. This was how she was going to die. Just like all those Survey Corps members who went past the Walls. She had tried, so hard, to move Eren off that path, to make him see how _pointless_ it would have been.

Her eyes widened-

Eren.

-tears rolled down her cheeks-

Mikasa.

-and a hand came to cover her mouth to hold back her sobs.

Grisha.

She saw all of them, saw better times, saw the life she had lived.

And it was a life she didn't want to lose.

Amongst the repressed sobs, traitorous words left her lips and slipped past her hand.

"Don't leave me."

The footsteps came to a shuddering stop.

The Titan was there, brushing the debris of her home away like dead leaves of a tree before it had her in a pair of massive, warm hands. Turns out she did have some strength left in her, her closed hands coming down to worthlessly bang against the monster's hand. And it's _face-_

Blonde hair. Blues eyes. Corners of its mouth stretched impossibly wide. So wide that its teeth and gums within were completely exposed to her. An entire face curled into an expression of twisted mirth.

 _"Monster!"_ She thought with hate and terror. _"MONSTER!"_

And then its mouth opened wide, its rotting breath washed over her and Carla stared into the abyss with wide unblinking eyes as she waited for the teeth to come down and-

 _" **GUYVER!** "_

There was a great flash of red and blue and Carla cried out, slamming her eyes shut at the suddenness of it. Then she was falling, the arm of the hand holding her served just above the elbow and something cushioned was should have been a painful landing.

Something settled her, still trapped within the Titan's fingers as they begun to dissolve around her, gently to the ground.

She looked to her impossible saviour.

Eyes red as blood, glowing like lanterns. A horn. Red and black skin. Glowing forehead-

Carla Yeager promptly passed out.

* * *

He was falling.

Falling without end.

Weightless, as though in space.

Were they falling through space?

He couldn't tell.

He watched, unable to scream, as they fell through a corridor of stars. That was the closet his mind could come to comprehend what his eyes relayed to it. Like falling down a deep well, a black centre with walls glittering with stars and galaxies. It wasn't just space, he somehow knew.

It was time, space and matter. It was all flowing past him, around him, through him. He felt his bones rattled, his heartbeat pound in his ears, and the power of the Guyver flux within his core. Balls of light shot past his eyes, colours the like of which he had never seen before dance over him, and where there should have been fear there was only peace.

An explosion of clarity went off in his mind and suddenly the peace he felt made complete sense.

He had died.

They had died.

They had died, most likely in the final battle, in the final strike, and this was the motions.

They were dead. Everything else was mere detail.

That should have upset him, destroy what little of him was left, but it didn't.

They had won the battle and ended the war.

The others would be safe now.

Humanity would be safe now.

The world would be safe now.

He could _rest_ now.

"I'm coming." He couldn't tell if he said the words, thought them, or if his mind was now free from the restraints of his skull. It didn't matter. "I'm coming, H-"

Then blinding light and-

-land, grass and flowers-

-wind roaring in his ears-

-getting close, _too fast_ -

-crashing-

-spinning, rolling, head over feet-

-pain, dirt, bones bending and snapping-

-stopping-

-stillness-

-laying-

-clear skies-

-darkness.

* * *

 _"This is it."_

 _"Yeah, this is it."_

 _"…Heh, I'm- I'm shaking..."_

 _"Josh?"_

 _"You'd think that after everything,_ everything _, I'd be ready. But-"_

 _"It's fine. Proves you're still human."_

 _"...I guess."_

 _"..."_

 _"..."_

 _"..."_

 _"Estevan...thank you. For everything."_

 _"Ah, kid-"_

 _"I wouldn't be half the person I am now if-"_

 _"Josh. Stop."_

 _"..."_

 _"You don't have to say anything."_

* * *

Maroon eyes snapped opened, lungs expanding in an inhale of clean air. As they took in the clear blue sky above, those eyes reflected the sun like a pair of gleaming rubies.

Up above, the sky was clear and dotted with clouds. The air that washed over him was pleasantly warm. A summer's gale.

Estevan Martinez looked up at the sky and wondered what the hell was going on.

This was all wrong.

He wasn't sure why he thought this, he just did. He knew something of serious magnitude was wrong. And that he was also forgetting something terribly important.

"Hey…"

Oh yeah. Duh, _him_.

That low voice reminded Estevan that he was not alone. That he hadn't been alone. Not for a long time. He turned his head, finding Joshua Martin laying beside him a few small feet away.

His younger brother's eyes, an honest brown of earth and nature, met his own. "S'up?"

Estevan felt a grin tug the corner of his lips. When was the last time he had smiled? "Nuthin'. You?"

A hint of a smile. "Nuthin'."

Estevan found himself chuckling. He felt laughter bubbling in his chest but kept it subdued to chuckling. He feared that he'd never stop if he let it lose. He then started to cough, a fist coming to hover before his mouth.

"You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. _Ahem_. Just need a drink."

"Same here." Josh lightly cleared his own throat before issuing a small grunt of effort. Estevan looked to see the younger boy move to sit up, numbly looking down at his hands as they sat limply in his lap. Without looking at Estevan, he said. "We're not dead."

Joshua said this flatly, almost emotionlessly, but Estevan could see the sparks flying in his eyes. The confusion, the disbelief.

Estevan looking back to the sky, wondering when he had ever seen such a clear blue last. He couldn't remember. He did, however, remember how the sky was before everything had gone white: It had been midnight and the air had been smouldering and thick with soot and death.

It wasn't the only thing he remembered.

He remembered armies of flesh, scales and fur. Drooling fangs and heaving hate. He remembered electric-blue eyes turning golden. He remembered death. He remembered _winning_.

And then, he woke up here.

"Maybe we are dead, and this is heaven?" Estevan suggested, half meaning it. He regretted it immediately, for Josh decided to test his suggestion by slamming his fist directly into his solar plexus. Wheezing, muttering curses as he writhed on the ground, Estevan turned a livid glower on his brother.

The little bastard stared back, unmoved, the mirth dancing in his eyes betraying the studious expression on his face. "I think we're quite alive."

"Yeah, noted," Estevan grunted.

And then a thought struck him and he flew to his feet, looking around wildly.

Josh was on his own not a moment later, alarmed. "Estevan, what-?"

"Where is he?!" Estevan snarled, voice guttural with rage. He was suddenly so angry with himself, remembering _everything_.

As if he could, would, ever forget.

Josh went very still. He knew who Estevan was talking about. It was a moment before he next spoke. "He's dead."

Estevan remembered electric-blue eyes turning golden and whirled on Josh, barely containing himself. "How the f-?"

"He has to be." Josh's voice held no room for argument, was very quiet and very calm. The calmness in his eyes, in the face of Estevan's anger, made the older boy listen. "He was half-dead when used that attack, most likely using what was left of his energy. He even seemed to be using his life force. Since he's not here, he has to be dead. Most likely torn apart."

Maroon clashed with brown, searching for a hint of doubt or lie. There was none.

Estevan's eyes dropped to the ground, mind reeling, anger draining out of him and leaving him sapped of strength. "He's dead." The words should have inspired a feeling of victory, of a terrible war finally won, but instead, they only left an odd numbness in Estevan's chest.

"Yes. Dead." And judging by the softness in voice, Joshua felt the same way.

Winning shouldn't have felt like this.

Silence ruled for a long while.

In that silence, a cool air flowed over them and Estevan closed his eyes, taking a deep breath of the clean air. Filling his lungs, he released it in a deep breath.

Estevan allowed himself a moment to relax.

Then he opened his eyes, looked past Josh, and squawked: "What the hell is that?!"

Josh whirled to face what Estevan gawked at and became very, very still.

They were on a small upturn of land, the nearby tree offering protection from the sun if anybody wanted it. Flowers were dotted throughout the green grass, some small and pure, others large and colourful. It was the cleanest, greenest set of land Estevan had ever seen. But then there was the _wall_. At least fifty meters tall, stark white, the construction looked as though they were built _around_ something. Looking up at their peaks, Estevan saw cannons mounted on the top. Somebody lived behind those walls, he realized numbly.

So, really, the main question over all others was: Where the hell were they?

Josh stared at the towering structure, brushing himself free of imaginary dirt, and looked around. His voice was very calm when he said. "We're inside some kind of closed-off land. The walls go for miles before curling."

Estevan saw that this was true. The wall extended far, normal eyes just being able to see how it curled in the distance. He and his brother, with their advanced eyesight, could clearly see the wall as it continued off into the distance. It was like some giant pen, a colossal cage.

Forcing his unease down deep, he sent the boy a look. "What are you thinking?"

Josh turned, briefly glanced at him, before pointing ahead. "I'm thinking we go over there and see who exactly these walls are holding. We'll gather I'll bearings then."

Estevan followed his brother's stretched limb. He saw what looked to be a small town a few minutes away, tucked close near the wall. He noticed that there was some kind of entrance in the wall, a stone gate lifted by chains and embellished with the design of a woman within a crest. Some kind of Goddess, maybe?

Then, a thought struck him.

Turning, he saw the evidence of what must have been their entrance and landing into this land. Dug into the Earth like scars were two grooves deep enough for two young men to lay in fully, stretching a few meters before stopping a little bit away, being continued by squashed grass and flattened flowers. They had fallen, crashed and survived.

 _"Story of our lives, right there."_ He thought wearily.

The lack of pain he felt told him that his body currently suffered from no serious wounds, no internal pains. No broken ribs or bones. Either his body had taken their landing better than he'd thought, or he had been out of it for a while and the Guyver had done its work.

Estevan then noticed that Joshua hadn't said anything. He was a quiet fellow, but not _that_ quiet. Turning, he felt a stab of vexation hit him. Joshua was already making his way towards the town without a word. "Hey!" And Estevan ran to catch up.

To the normal eye, it would as though the young man had fazed into the air before what could only be described as a wave of wind shooting down after the Brit. Flowers were torn at their roots, the leaves in the tree rustled, and the ground was kicked up slightly when Estevan then appeared next to Josh. A clap of wind punctuated his movements, followed by flowers and grass. "Thanks for letting me know you were going!" He snapped irritably.

The younger of the two didn't slow down, or outright react, in the slightest. "You looked like you were enjoying the scenery."

 _"Asshole."_ Estevan's thought petulantly. They continued in silence, but not before Joshua lightly suggested that they ought to refrain from using their Units.

Estevan agreed, silently realizing that he could no longer feel _that_ power that had helped them in the final battle.

* * *

'Town', Estevan soon realized as he and Josh followed a dirt path that led to the wall, was too large a word to describe the settlements. It was more like a small village than anything else. On either side of the path towards the entrance, there were buildings that could have been wither resting places for travellers or bars. There were quite a few stands on display, mostly selling food. A few blocks off, there was what appeared to be a canal with two great boats stationed.

The people, he noticed, didn't seem too advanced technologically wise. No kid on phones (They were either with their parents or playing with their friends), no cars (People were using horses attached to wagons), no electrical devices of any kind (His hearing, augmented and enhanced by the Guyver, had never been so clear).

Things were steady not looking good.

Also, people were staring. "We're getting looks."

"Just act normal and keep walking. I want to see what's behind those walls." Estevan suspected that it was their clothing that was gaining attention and said so to Josh. "I highly doubt that. We look perfectly fine."

At seventeen years of age, British with a healthy complexion, Joshua looked quite striking in his one-button black suit. Continuing the trend, he had black trousers on with a white, long sleeve shirt. And finally, to complete the formal picture, a bowtie was tied around the collar of his shirt.

Estevan, American of nineteen years of age with an equally well-kept complexion, cut a more casual picture with his clothing. He was dressed in a simple set of blue jeans with a black top, a grey fleece thrown over it. In the current weather, though, Estevan was steadily developing a hankering to depose of the latter piece of clothing.

The only thing that made their otherwise normal pictures unusual was the fact that they both looked like they had been put through a blender. Numerous rips and tears covered their clothes, dotted and splashed with dried blood. And now, thanks to their barely recalled crash landing, they were almost smeared with dirt and grass stains.

In short, they both looked a mess. Like dogs had mauled them without any gaining any noticeable wounds.

Estevan knew this would apply to him the most, what with the scars that ran down his face. He said, "We look like a pair of hobos who've been fighting for food."

Josh stopped and looked down at himself, at his crimson-stained white shirt and brown stained black suit, the frown that turned his lips accompanied by a sigh. "This was a good suit..." He muttered distantly. The single button that would have kept his suit together was long gone, leaving the dirty shirt underneath bare to all who cared to look.

"And these were good jeans," Estevan patted his legs once the dry statement was given. Unlike his brother, he had no pity for his clothing. When he saw that some people had stopped to stare at them as they stood halfway through the small settlement, he gave them a dark look that quickly had them going on their way. At least they weren't stupid and knew when to keep away. "So, what do we do?"

"We act normal." Tilting his head as he gave a sidelong glance, for Estevan had him beat on size by three whole inches, Josh's frown turned upside down slightly. But even a small smile, in Estevan's opinion, was a welcome change to Josh's stony face. "And I'll leave the rest to you, should anything happen."

Of course he would. The slave driver.

They carried on in peaceful silence, stopping once more just as they reached the entrance. The wall loomed over them and they craned their heads as they looked to the top of it. Joshua looked from side to side, eyes taking in every detail of the structure. His forehead creased with thought. "An impressive construction, considering."

"Considering what?"

"The people, the culture. In terms of technology, you can see it's rather basic, and yet they somehow were able to make a wall that spans miles."

"Doubt they did it in a night."

"Of course not. But..."

Josh had that look on his face. That look that meant he was thinking hard about something near intangible. "What?"

The Brit shook his head and the clouded look evaporated. "Nothing. Never mind." And, as Estevan should have expected, he carried on again without explaining. Shaking his head, he caught up with him.

And then Estevan saw the soldiers. A small group, no more than four, three of them sitting around a box as they laughed and chatted amongst each other. One though, a blonde man, had noticed them coming and was making his way to intercept them.

Estevan gave his 'here we go' groan.

Josh gave him his 'leave this to me' look in return.

They and the man came to a stop with a small space separating them. The solider was tall, well-built with short blond hair, a thin moustache, and golden hazel eyes. His uniform was unlike anything Estevan had ever seen before. It consisted of a short, light brown jacket, a light-coloured shirt, a dark brown sash around the waist covering the hips, white pants, and dark brown knee-high leather boots. On both the jacket's shoulders and on the front left pocket was a symbol, roses within a silver crest. A symbol of their unit maybe?

Estevan found himself brushing the small, black, circular tattoo on right palm with the tips of his fingers. He then curled his hand into a fist in preparation.

Though the man's smile was friendly, the American grimaced at the flush on his cheeks and alcohol on his breath. "Hey, kids!" He greeted, a little too loudly and friendly to be professional. "You lost or something?"

 _"One hell of an understatement."_ Estevan thought, already annoyed. He also didn't appreciate being called kid. At all.

Josh gave the man a polite smile. "We're just looking around, sir. Taking in the view and all that."

The man's muggy gaze bounced between them, taking in their forms. He seemed to notice the state of their clothing. "Aw shit, did you guys get mugged?"

Estevan shared an incredulous look with Joshua, the wordless _'How in the hell do we look like we've been mugged?!'_ going between them. Okay, so maybe his brother wouldn't have quite worded it like that, but it would have been pretty damn close!

Josh waved his hands with a sheepish smile. "Oh, no, no! We just ran into a spot of bother a little bit back, nothing at all to worry about!" He didn't sound too convincing to Estevan.

A 'spot of bother'? Give him a break. They had walked away from a war, a fact which had yet to really set in with Estevan. He was still processing their impossible survival, their victory. The fact that _he_ was finally dead.

The man mulled over their words before he just shrugged, hiccupping merrily. "If you say so." And then the blonde went off, swaying slightly as he did.

The duo watched him go, left silenced from the abruptness of it all.

"That was...easier than expected," Josh muttered, his surprise giving way to a pleased smile. "Makes a refreshing change of pace!"

"He was pissed," Estevan stated flatly.

"Yes, I noticed."

"He's doing his job _brilliantly_ , that's for sure." As they walked on, Estevan shot the man a glare of contempt. The soldiers didn't pay them a glance, too immersed in their drinking and—card game? What a pack of losers. If that were the best this world had to offer, then any trouble that came their way would be a cakewalk.

Well. At least the man had made no comment about his scars.

"So…" He glanced at his silent companion. "Now what?"

"For now, let's look around. Perhaps we'll learn something." Joshua straightened his bowtie, smirking slightly. "Or I will, at any rate."

"Screw you, bro."

* * *

Joshua was trying hard to ignore the gut rot feeling that boiled in his stomach.

For two hours and a half hours they had wandered through this town, and they were finding themselves no closer to understanding where they were from when they had first arrived. They learned it was called Shiganshina, a small town with an easy enough layout. Nearly all the buildings, as far as they could see, were homes. Some were for businesses, but they were minor things. Carpenters, potters and bakers. The people, while regarding them both with a sense of suspicion that was only logical, were proving to be the run of the mill kind of people. Except Joshua couldn't tell what nations they belonged to, what people they were. They had no accents, no discernible differences in skin tones, and no cultural differences of the like.

That was strange and it concerned him.

The question of why those walls existed hung heavily in his mind like a thick, perilous fog. To try to answer the question would lead him astray, stumbling blindly between logic and half-formed assumptions. One such assumption was the frightening notion was that these people were trapped behind these walls. Cut off from the rest of the world and having no knowledge that yes, there were other people past the walls.

But then logic stepped in with questions to counter this notion. If that were true, then why was there a gate at the other end of the town? Josh and Estevan had gone there first, to see if there would be an exit, only to find it sealed.

Therefore, Joshua began to wonder if these walls were less for keeping people _in_ and more for keeping something _out_.

This concerned him more also, so much so that he reframed from stretching his senses to find out.

So after that, it was a matter of simply getting the layout of the town. There was an unspoken agreement between the two of them that they might be staying the night. It was late in the afternoon, almost early evening, and the world was stained with an amber light as the sun begun its descent. At least this planet held the basic similarities to their own. A small comfort.

That matter of food was taken care of by Estevan, who swiftly and quietly nicked a pair of apples for both of them. Though Josh disapproved of theft and begged Estevan to reconsider, he didn't raise much of an argument against him as he took his apple. Though not much, it would do for now. Their Guyvers would take care of the rest. As they walked along the bank of a canal, absent of any kind of boat, Josh quietly took bites of his apple as he pondered and enjoyed the warm air that came over them.

It had been a long time since he could enjoy such a luxury.

He pondered how they could possibly get home.

And he found himself incapable of finding an answer.

Joshua prided himself on his ability to be composed, no matter the situation. There were moments when he was shaken by some horrific discovery or sway in battle, but most of the time he was able to keep a tight lid on his emotions to focus solely on the situation at hand. Thank his parents, his British blood, whatever it was; experience had proven countless times that someone with a straight head in a situation would always be needed and useful.

Josh excelled in that, being reliable. Being cool under pressure.

At least on the outside.

Inside, though, fear and anger curling in a dangerous mix that threatened the support pillars of his composure.

Fear of the unknown, the most common type of fear. Of this world, its people. Of the horrible possibility of not being able to return to their own world. That they may both be stuck here, without any hope of seeing their friends again.

And anger, an emotion he was so good at keeping at bay, at the whole situation. The unfairness of it all. That after everything, _everything_ they had _given_ towards the war and every _loss_ they had _suffered_ -

-Estevan thinking that _he was still alive_ -

- _Him_ , that _monster_ , that _Devil_ -

Joshua took a large bite out of his apple, so much so that his jaw stretched and half his apple was lost in a single chomp. He chewed slowly, focusing on the movement of his jaw muscles, the bits of apple grinding away between his teeth, the sweet tang of the fruit's juices. Estevan had chosen a red apple, he liked red apples. Better than green any day.

He focused on the apple and refused to acknowledge the turbulence in his chest. His face was so still, it could have been carved from stone. This was not the place to fall, to break. There was still a chance, however tiny, for them to get back home. And so long as that chance existed, there was still _hope_.

And as long as he had hope, he would survive.

They would make it through this.

And then the world exploded.

Gold and neon green flashed in his eyes and the world shuddered and he stumbled, so taken off guard by the movement that he fell to his hands and knees, what was left of his apple falling out of his hand. Darn, he had been enjoying that. It was over as quickly as it has begun, but Josh's hearing could pick on the soundless murmurs of bafflement that rumbled through the entire town. Everyone had heard that. He heard Estevan say something but it sounded a million miles away. An odd ringing filled his ears and refused to go away. His arms and legs felt numb and rubbery, barely keeping him upright.

"Armin!"

The cry of a name pierced his ears, killed the ringing, and he looked up in time to see a youth of blonde hair disappear past a building. Then, coming out from a set of steps that seemed to lead down to the canal, a boy and girl quickly followed. Josh found himself following them, legs renewed with strength and working without any input from his mind, not bothering to look back to see if Estevan was following him. He knew he would.

He came upon them in a crowded street, three children among adults. Everyone in the area was looking towards something, their expressions all sharing looks of great shock and even greater horror. Josh took this all in as he approached, followed the gaze of the children once he stopped behind them-

And what he saw put ice in his veins and had his heart turning into a burning ball of lead. He turned as still as stone.

Beside him, equally still, Estevan spat an eloquent oath: "What the fuck?!"

A vast face was peaking over the top of the wall. Although it was human shaped, it was also eerily skinless, its scarlet muscles standing bare to the wind. This seemed to extend to its whole body, for its shoulder just peeked over the wall and a skinless hand was holding the wall for purchase. So much so that it had cracked it underhand. What appeared to be steam hissed from between lines of flesh and teeth, great plumes erupting from its shoulders to the point where it almost looked like a white cape fluttering in the wind. The muscles that would have been its lips were fixed into a frown that stood parallel to the tooth-filled smile its cheekless jaw made. Its sunken eyes, hidden beneath a heavy brow, stared down at the tiny insects and their nest below it.

Joshua stared at this monster, this real Kaiju, and felt nought but numbness. Distantly, he found this rather amusing. After everything he had seen, all the Zoanoids he had fought, the sight of this creature should have been less shocking to him than it ought to.

The boy who stood in the middle, a lad with brown hair who couldn't have been older than ten, spoke. Josh looked down as he did, hearing the horror in his young voice. A terror that a child his age should never know. "Oh God, it's _them! It's a Titan!"_

Titan? A rather unimaginable name for a giant but that was the least important thing Josh picked up on. The boy had said 'them', implying that there were more than one of these creatures. Suddenly, it all made complete sense. He had been right. The wall wasn't for keeping people in, it was for keeping things _out_. Keeping these Titans out.

So they had left a world with monsters secretly ruling from the shadows to a world where, apparently, giant monsters roamed behind walls?

 _"Oh, this is_ so _not fair."_

The Titan dipped its head, body moving behind the wall. What was it-?

And then there was the sound of smashing stone, a mighty explosion of dust and Joshua threw his arms over his face as a immense gale flowed over them like a wave of water. The shockwave of a powerful explosion. While other people fell to the ground or swayed like weak trees, he and Estevan remained still with only their clothing ruffling. Josh lowered his arms to look unblinkingly against the rushing winds, hearing what almost sound like missiles screeching through the air and soon followed by the expectant explosion. He saw smaller clouds of dust shooting up further down the town, moving up blocks. Debris, he realized. Chunks of the wall sent high into the air, only to come crashing down. Once the wave passed, he looked back to the wall to see the tip of the Titan's head disappearing below it. It was—gone? Just like that?

The blonde boy before them had fallen to his knees, breathless with disbelieving horror. "I-it blasted a hole- Like it was kicking a _rock_!"

And then people were screaming in the distance and those close to them now were breaking with terror before running. They called for others to run, hollering how 'they' had gotten in. Josh stretched his senses and focused beyond the panicking civilians. He heard it, the sounds of giant creatures moving. Many of them. More Titans, seemingly smaller ones, coming in through the hole the skinless one had made. Joshua wondered what kind of horrors these Titan had done to incite such fear into people. There was a clear history to all this madness.

The blonde boy was on his feet, body trembling with fear. "We have to go!" He said desperately to his friends and Josh found himself taking a step back as the boy almost walked into him. They seemed completely obvious to him and Estevan. "Eren!"

Josh saw the other boy, Eren, blindly walk forwards against the flow of people. "My house is in that direction," The fear in his voice was so palpable that the Brit could taste it. "Mom's all by _herself_ -" And with a sharp sound of panic, the boy broke into a sprint. And then he was running, running towards his home and his mother with the girl following at his heels.

The little blonde boy had a hand outstretched before stopping. Josh watched him, transfixed, as he grasped his limb by the wrist and forced it down. Tremors wracked his small frame. "It's too late. It's over. Humanity-" Sucking in a massive breath, the boy cried in terror. "Humanity is going to be devoured by the Titans!"

 _"Devoured?"_ Josh's head felt like it was full of cotton. _"These things-? They eat-?"_

He blinked once, twice, thrice.

And then he was running too. The corridor was long, the lights were red and the alarm was shrill and blaring. Running, running, running. He couldn't hear anything, he couldn't feel anything. He had to find them, they had to get out, and there. He had found them. Lying there, in a pool of their own blood, and his whole world _shattered_ -

"JOSHUA!" And then he was face to face with Estevan, his brother's face twisted with anger as he held a handful of his suit in each hand. As usual, the scowl wrinkled the scars that marred the right side of his face. "What the hell do we do?!"

Josh blinked back to reality, back to the present. All around them people were screaming and panicking whilst monsters roamed about. A painfully familiar setting.

Right, time to get to work.

His eyes turned to steel and his mouth became a thin line. Pushing himself free, he walked past Estevan as spoke clearly among the screams. "Follow me."

And Joshua jumped up onto the roof of the closest house. Had anyone been watching, they would have seen a young man effortlessly leap from the ground to the top of the building in a single bound and see the act repeated by his brother. But no one did. They were blind with fear. Now running in earnest against the flow of people, above the madness, Josh felt that terrible fear swell in his chest.

What do they do?

He had no idea.

They lacked any true sense of direction, any understanding of the situation regarding this world. For a blinding moment, he prayed to see someone proclaim they were here to save the day, to see a Mecha fall from the sky to do battle, to see someone chant in some unknown dead language that would force the Titans away and seal the breach in the wall.

He prayed for someone to do _something_ other than panic.

But there was nobody, and all he could hear were the screams of terrified people, drowning him in their horror.

 _"MOM!"_

He froze, turned in the direction of the cry, and moved forward to its source.

Estevan followed, leaping between each house with inhuman ease, before they came to a stop upon a roof a few blocks away. The sight that greeted them made them both still, filled Joshua with a horror greater than the Titan had produced.

Below them laid a flatten house, crushed by a large piece of debris in what looked to be a cruel joke by the world. It was the only one out of the _whole street_ that had any damage. In the centre of that mess of wood and tiles were that boy Eren and that dark haired girl, trying to help a woman out of the debris. She was trapped, that much was clear, pinned down under the weight of what had once been her home. It took little to no guess that she was their mother.

Down the road, making the tiles of the intact houses shudder with every footstep, was a Titan. Smaller than the one that had kicked in the wall, Josh calculated that it stood tall at fifteenth meters. It was a lanky thing with a thin, emaciated frame with stocky proportions. Its ribs were visible through the skin of its diaphragm and it possessed an unusually-long neck. It had medium-length, blond hair that only barely reached down to its neck and small, blue eyes. And it had the most disturbing smile Josh had ever seen smeared over its face. At a leisurely pace, it walked towards the family.

The twitch Josh gave when Estevan spoke was a testament to how long he stared at the humanoid horror. "We need to help them." And while Joshua had every intention of doing that himself, of putting a stop to the shouts of the mother and son before them, something caught his eye and he threw an arm in front of his brother to stop him moving.

To his miffed, almost disgusted questioning, Josh nodded his head in inclination. "Look over there."

It was that soldier from the gate, the blonde, coming upon the threatened family. He had a peculiar device on him, a thing that had the Brit narrowing his eyes in wonder. The body of the device was strapped to the lumbar area of his back, with what appeared to be boxes at the sides of their thighs. In those each of those boxes where what looked like blades, six in both. Twelve in total. It had some other function that brought the man here, he knew, for there was no way he could have gotten here so quickly but he couldn't fathom what it was or how it worked. It had something to do, he guessed, with the handle like objects that were in his hands before he pocketed them into his jacket's inner pockets.

Joshua watched. The man was all smiles and charms, any earlier intoxication gone. He seemed fully able to kill the Titan. Josh watched as he confidently charged towards the Titan before stopping dead in his tracks, becoming a statue before the monster with his mouth hanging open. For a fleeting, frightful moment, the Brit feared the Titan would reach out and grab him. His body tensed, really to leap forward-

Only to freeze when the man started moving again. He sheathed his blade, ran back to the kids and snatched them up. Leaving the woman behind.

Estevan hissed like a furious snake, hands clenched and shaking at his sides. The air around him buzzed with energy whilst his expression curled with wrath. "That f-fucking _coward!_ "

Josh said nothing, watching as the Titan stomped towards the crushed home and the trapped mother. He said nothing because any reply would merely be fuel for the fire that was his brother's rage. He said nothing because he found himself lacking words, a cold yawning space growing in his chest. He said nothing because he found that he wanted to hate the man. Found that a part of him did. He was very quick to scold himself for feeling such emotions.

The man was only human.

The Titan found it's downed pray, taking her in its hand. The woman was beating the hands. Though fruitless, and though most likely brought on through fear, Josh respected her fighting against the beast. The Titan's jaws parted and just like that, the blonde child's words were proven true.

This monster was going to _eat_ her.

Joshua Martin decided that he and his brother had stood by long enough. "Let's go."

And then they jumped forward, bellowing as one:

" ** _GUYVER!_** "

* * *

This was the worst day of his life.

There was no doubt about this. None at all.

Only a searing certainty that made Eren Yeager feel like his heart was about to burn out of his chest.

That, and the horrible idea that this was all his fault.

It had been his dream, after all, to go past the Walls. To see the outside world, to not live the rest of his life trapped behind those structures that served more like pens and had turned humanity into cattle.

He just wanted to be _free_.

And now, all he had ever known was a pile of rubble lying atop his mother.

Eren could only stare in horror, thrown over Hannes' shoulder, his whole body numb and without sensation. The world seemed to blur out of existence, into a dark mess of colours that merged with smoke that billowed into the evening sky. He watched as his mother struggled uselessly against the Titan, its smile burned into his retinas, unable to escape her fast approaching fate.

Words were beyond him, escaped him, and all he wanted to do was scream and rage against this one death among all the countless others happening at the same moment throughout his hometown.

That was his mother.

She was the last person who deserved to die.

He still hasn't _apologized_ to her.

And yet, as he and Mikasa watched and Hannes continued to run without so much as a glance back, he knew that there was nothing he could do. Nothing anyone could do. There was no hope, he saw, no chance of averting this fate. No one was going to save his mother.

And it was in this one terrible moment, the moments before his childhood broke apart before his eyes, that he realized the sad truth that he had believed all his life but now knew it for certain: Humanity was a spineless race that had lost the _will_ to survive.

A hundred years behind the Walls had made them fat and stupid, unequipped to deal with the horrors they told themselves were no longer an issue. And now his home had fallen and the rest of humanity would follow.

This was it, he saw.

The beginning of the end.

What was the point of living then, the boy questioned. What was the point of training and fighting, of all those hopes and dreams he and Armin had if their fate was to become mere food for the Titans?

What was the _point_ of _anything_ in this cruel world?

" ** _GUYVER!_** "

He was then blinded by flashes of blue and red so great that it forced Eren to close his eyes, crying out at the suddenness of it all. His ears registered the sounds of blades cutting through flesh and something large and heavy crashing. He opened his eyes and where there Titan had stood was now replaced by a cloud of dust.

And then Eren was staring down the end of the road. Hannes had turned to see what happened himself.

It took Eren's mind a moment to register that they had stopped. That he could get out of the hold. That he could _get to his mother and see if she was alright_.

He acted instantly. Turning his body in Hannes' hold, he drove his knee into the man's face. The blonde cried out, his grip slacking and Eren quickly jumped out of it and onto the ground. He was running in a heartbeat, towards the dust cloud, towards his mother. Mikasa and Hannes cried out his name but he ignored them. They didn't matter. The Titan didn't matter. _Nothing_ mattered.

Only getting to his mother did.

"MOM!" He yelled as he ran into the cloud, his eyes watering. Because of the dust, he thought. Not because he was afraid. Not because guilt was so sharp in his heart that he felt like he would bleed to death. He looked around, trying to find familiar shapes before something dropped in front of him. Something large and heavy that blew away the dust around them. With a cry of shock, he fell onto his butt, staring wide eye at the thing before him.

'Thing' was an adequate name for what stood before Eren Yeager. It looked human, but at the same time was completely non-human.

Standing roughly the size of a full grown adult, the being was clad in deep blue armour from head to toe, armour that the boy had never seen before. It was smooth and metallic but didn't seem to be made of any metal that the boy was familiar with. In-between certain segments were what almost looked like flesh, white as virgin snow. On the top of the armoured hip was a metal orb and sprouting out of the being's left elbow was a glow curved blade, evaporating Titan blood rising off it.

The head was the most inhumane part of the being. Completely encased in armour, the head had a horn that sprouted from the front of the crown and then curved back in a half arch shape. A metal orb, like the one on the hip but slightly bigger, rested in the being's forehead; its outer rim glowing for a second before fading. Above that rested a tiny black orb. Where a mouth would usually be was two even smaller metal orbs, one on top of the other, that stood in-between two peculiar shapes that spat out steam.

Crimson eyes in the shapes of scalene triangles stared unblinkingly into Eren's forest green eyes. They glowed like lanterns, looking right into him, past his fleshy body and into the very depths of his being. It was those eyes that kept him on the ground, body locked in-

What?

Eren didn't know what to feel. His overwhelming fear for his mother found itself being met by a swell of what could have been either awe or fear of the creature that towered over him.

For many heartbeats, nothing happened. Time had ground to a halt, with only the creature's blade smoothly retracting into its elbow until no trace of it was left. In those beats, Eren wondered if this creature was going to kill him.

Then the creature moved forward and Eren flinched and closed his eyes whilst turning his head away, sending one last apology to his mother that he knew she was _never_ going to hear-

"Are you alright?"

Eyes snapping open, Eren slowly turned his head. Stretched before him was a blue armoured left hand, palm turned upwards and flesh white. Attached to that hand was an arm that led up the creature, bent over slightly as it offered its hand towards Eren. It had spoken. It had spoken, clearly and coherently in his language. The voice was male, that of a young man. There was an odd echo quality to it, almost as though it came from the bottom of a deep well.

Eren stared incomprehensibly at the creature before, his mouth empty of words. The armoured being then flexed its (his?) hand, waiting. The subtle movement caught his attention and, after a brief bout of hesitation, he reached out and took the hand. The flesh of the palm was warm, the texture rough and leathery, and the metal was pleasantly warm too. The fingers coiled over his small hand and he was pulled to feet, the being stepping back to give him some room. The eyes never left him.

Again, the being asked. "Are you okay?"

This time, Eren had words to speak. Hesitantly, under the unblinking stare, his voice came as a nervous squeak. "Y-yes."

"Good." The being sounded pleased, relieved even. The armoured shoulders lowered a touch.

Footsteps came from the right and Eren turned to look past the tall being. What met his eyes made him gasp in awe.

Steeping toward them was another metal clad being. Visually, it was exactly the same as the blue one. Same height, same metal orbs, same layout of armour. For all Eren knew, the creatures were twins. The only discernible difference between the two were their colours. The newcomer's armour was red as blood, the flesh between the segments black as pitch, and the tiny orb above the metal orb in the forehead was green.

And in his metal arms was his mother. She was limp in them, a puppet with its strings cut. Awe turned into horror that turned into despair.

"Oh God," Moaned the boy, tears filling his eyes as he staggered towards the red being. A sudden emptiness took the place where his heart should have been. He reached out, taking his mother's hand in his own. It was cold and clammy. He pressed it against his face, wishing to warm it. "Mom-"

"She's fine." Eren flinched, eyes snapping upwards to the red being's face, meeting the same unblinking gaze like its companion. The voice was also human, another male, though one of a slightly older individual. Slightly deeper than the blue and white one. It had the same distortion in the voice. "She's just passed out. The situation probably got to her."

"That or your face frightened her, brother." The blue one said lightly, the thoughtful words laced with mirth.

The red one turned his fathomless eyes to the other. Sounding miffed, he snapped. "You're hardly a supermodel yourself, brother!"

Brothers. Eren looked between the two, fascinated. Were they family?

It occurred then to Eren that he was less afraid than he was interested. He felt calm, even, admits the chaos that surrounded him. As though these two were the eye of a terrible storm. Not once did it enter his mind to label the two as Titans. It would have been clear to anyone with eyes that these creatures didn't resemble a Titan in any way. And while yes, they certainly didn't look human, they were at least human-sized.

Not humans, but certainly not Titans.

Something wholly different. Something completely unknown.

That unknown would have, and perhaps should of, made Eren's mind jump to horrific conclusions and accusations but none were forthcoming. Eren didn't feel any fear of these unknown creatures, he was purely _awed_ by their appearances and power.

And more than that, they had _saved his mother_.

Could he say that about any Titan? Any _person_?

A young cry split through his musing, "Eren!", and he turned to see Mikasa running through the dust. Of course, he thought, finding his lips twitching with the odd urge to smile. Of course she would fly to his aid, no matter what. He watched her come to a stop before the blue and white being, saw her usual lax expression colour with surprise and perhaps a twinge of fear as she stared up at him, and then see her eyes fall to him. They looked past him and Eren saw her face go paler than usual.

"MOM!" Now _that_ was interesting. Mikasa seldom called his mother by the same title, for some reason she had never told him. She dashed towards him, past the blue brother, and Eren had enough sense in the current madness to quickly stop Mikasa from doing something stupid.

"Mikasa, stop!" He got into her line of charge, hands thrust outwards and hitting her chest. The force almost sent him toppling over. Damn, she was strong! When Mikasa stared at him with wide, open eyes, he said. "It's alright, really! We're not in danger!"

"But-" Mikasa looked between the brothers, clearly unnerved. It was weird, Eren thought, to see her so jumpy. So uncertain. Usually, she was in complete control of herself, almost aggravatingly so. Given the situation, though, he guessed he couldn't really blame her. "I mean- They're-"

"They saved her!" He said loudly, trying to get the point across before she made any of her own conclusions. Mikasa could be remarkably thick sometimes. He looked back at the red brother, disregarding her wide eyes of disbelief, a slight smile coming to his lips. "They saved Mom."

"Eren! Mikasa! What- _What the hell?!_ "

There was a hiss of metal and the two children looked back to see Hannes wielding two blades, held protectively before him. His face was curled in a look of terror that Eren had never seen on the blonde's face before, a line of red leaking from his nose from where his knees had got him.

 _"This,"_ Eren thought grimly, _"Won't end well."_

* * *

"W-wha- What in the hell are you two?!"

Hannes could barely get the words past his lips, his tongue fat, heavy and useless inside his mouth. His mind felt sharp and alert, so much so that he was painfully aware of the tremors running through his body.

Before him stood two monsters, unlike anything he had ever see before. They stood roughly six feet tall, were armoured from head to toe with horns sprouting from their heads. They were armour and flesh, compiled in a way that left Hannes baffled. They looked identical, save for their colours. One was red as blood, the other a dark shade of blue. Their crimson eyes were like lanterns, one of the few details they shared, looking into the deepest parts of his soul.

They were neither human or Titan. An unknown factor. They looked powerful and dangerous and that was more than enough for Hannes to consider them enemies.

And yet, neither of the armoured beings made any move to attack him.

The blue one rose a hand in a pacifying gesture. The palm of the hands and fingers were white, leading into metal armour that seemed fused to the backs of them. To Hannes' shock, it spoke in the voice of a young man. "Don't be afraid. We are here to help."

"Who are you?!" Barked Hannes, not even sure why he said the words at all.

"That's not important right now." The blue one said, avoiding the question. There was an odd, inhuman quality to the voice that put Hannes' teeth on edge. "The city is under attack and people are in danger. This woman needs urgent medical attention."

 _"Carla."_ Guilt stabbed itself into the blonde's heart as he turned to look at the mother in the red one arms, twisting as the full meaning of what he had done came crashing onto him. She had wanted him to run, he knew, but he had refused. He refused to let her die such a lonely death, to accept defeat so easily. He had wanted to finally pay off the debt he owed Grisha, saving his wife as the doctor had his own all those years ago.

But it was all for nought.

He had the perfect moment and squandered it, his fears rising to destroy his confidence. He looked down to Eren and Mikasa before quickly looking back to the blue being before him. It was easier to look into those emotionless red eyes as opposed to those of the children. He knew that they would never forgive him but that was alright. He was a coward and a pathetic human being.

Even when he had the power to, he had left her to die. They both had all the reason to resent him.

What kind of a soldier was he if he couldn't even save one mere life?

The movement of something large could be seen from within the dust cloud. It caught his attention and Hannes staggered back with a gasp, his fears multiplying. "Oh hell..."

Both the beings turned sharply, seeing what Hannes saw. Dragging itself along the ground with its large hands, digging its fingers into the dirt to hoist itself forward, was the Titan that Hannes had failed to kill earlier. Its face, that disgusting smile, hadn't shifted an iota. The creatures leapt back in a surprising show of movement, Carla safe in the red one's arms. Mikasa grabbed Eren by the arm and quickly pulled him to their side.

They all stood together. The soldier, the children and the strangers. They watched as the Titan pulled itself forward, no doubt fuelled by its unwavering desire to devour them. Hannes found himself looking into its blue eyes, dull and without life. He wondered what, if any, intelligence stirred behind them.

"Son of a bitch..." The crimson warrior's utterance made Hannes jump, returning to the present. He looked at the human-sized creature in surprise. It spoke also, only in the deeper voice of an older male. Still remarkably young though, he noted, carrying the same inhuman quality as the other.

"It's regenerating its limbs." Said the blue one, sound truly shocked. "It's regrown them like a lizard would its tail." It was then that Hannes noticed that there was steam rising from the arms. A sign, he knew from his years as a cadet, of Titan regeneration. He looked between the two again, at the still form of Carla, before looking back to the Titan blankly. Just what had the two done to sever its limbs?

It seemed to have lost its legs too, Hannes noted, seeing the steam pour from the bottom of its thin torso. Only its hands had regenerated. In its current state, a rather pathetic one at that, it was an easy target. But Hannes couldn't find the strength to go near the monster. Just looking at it was a challenge. When it snapped its jaws like an irritated dog, emotions that were eerily absent from the eyes, he wasn't the only one to step back.

He flinched when the blue one turned sharply to face him, its eyes cutting. "What are their weaknesses?"

Hannes replied blankly. "What?"

"These creatures! Their weaknesses!" Snapped the blue being, sounding peeved and desperate. There was a struggling calm in the young, distorted voice.

The red one spoke up, speaking to Hannes as though he were a slow child. "Do the _Titans_ have any _weakness_ that we can _exploit_?"

Shock numbed Hannes' mind of the fear that was only mere meters away. They didn't know, he realized blankly. They didn't know how to kill Titans. If Hannes didn't know any better, he'd say that they didn't know what Titans were in general. They didn't know the greatest scourge that humanity had ever know. _"What are you?"_ Ran fleetingly through his mind before he mechanically gave the answer. "The nape, on the back of the neck. That's their only weakness. Cut that and they'll die instantly."

"The nape." The blue one looked back to the Titan. "The nape." The blue stranger repeated in a thoughtful murmur, reaching back to tap its own nape. "Okay then." He then moved past him, ignored the Titan, crouching down before the children. Hannes noticed Eren put an arm before Mikasa and he would have smiled at the small but subtle gesture of protectiveness. In a voice that was soft and cordial, the being asked Eren. "What's your name, boy?"

Hannes blinked at the random question, so out of place in the situation, but kept his tongue firmly behind his teeth. He watched Eren blink, clearly surprised by the unexpected request for information too, and then saw him round up some courage to answer. Hannes couldn't miss how he straightened his body, speaking towards the individual with a _respect_ that he never showed him or his comrades. "My name is Eren, Eren Yeager."

"Nice to met you, Eren." The creature said with an impossible brightness. Pointing at itself and then to its companion, it introduced itself. "My name is Yin, and that's my brother, Yang. I know you must be worried sick about your mother, about everything that's happening in general, but don't be. Me and my brother are going to help her as soon as we can. Before that, though, I need you and your friend to be brave and _trust us_. Trust us and I promise, we'll get you to safety." There was such sincerity in the being's promise that it left Hannes stunned.

What stunned him, even more, was how, after sharing a look with Mikasa, the boy nodded. Eren had always lacked the gleam of fear in his eyes that most children his age had before the face of terror, Hannes knew from past experiences, but he looked at the armoured creature with something near reverence. He jumped when Yin then reached forward to take hold of the two children, hooking its (his?) arms around their waists. Just like he had been holding Mikasa mere moments ago. Said girl, he noted, looked slightly uncomfortable.

Hannes twitched in surprise when the red one, Yang, spoke up. He had said very little in comparison to his brother. "Is there somewhere we can take them? A shelter or bunker, that kind of thing? _Please_ tell me that you people at least _considered_ that this sort of thing would happen one day and made countermeasures." The words would have been a plea were it not for the exasperation that dripped from them.

"Hang on a second! You're not going to kill the Titan?"

"Saving this lot is more important at the moment," Yang said, his steely voice telling Hannes that there would be no discussion on the matter. He turned his head to quickly look at the aforementioned monster. Hannes did so too, grimacing as he saw that the Titan was pushing itself upwards as if doing push-ups. Judging from the stream rising behind it, the legs were nearing full regeneration. Its empty eyes were locked on them all, the shadow that fell across its face doing nothing to diminish that horrid smile. "Unless, of course, you want to have another go at it?"

Hannes looked back to the red and black being, completely dismissing the nearby Titan. There was ice in his stomach. "You saw that?"

"We saw all of it," Yang answered coldly and for a heartbeat, those red eyes of his seemed to flare. Hannes took a step back, suddenly worried for his own life.

"That doesn't matter," Yin interjected firmly, giving his brother a look. Something must have passed through their gaze because Yang did and said nothing. Yin looked at Hannes. "Please, there has to be somewhere we can take them. Somewhere we can help their mother without distraction."

Hannes stared, knowing it would be a losing battle to try and find any kind of deceit. He considered his options. To allow these strange beings to take the family to whom he had known most of his life away. Or to deny them and try, _try_ and find some form of redemption. But as he stared into those pitiless eyes, like pools of blood, he knew that there really was no choice. He would never stand a chance. Heaving a defeated sigh, he said with an inclination of his head. "Go past the Wall, in that direction. You'll find boats on the other side. They'll take the civilians to the entrance of Wall Rose."

"Thank you." Yin nodded, looking down at the children in his arms and inquiring softly. "Are both ready?" Eren and Mikasa nodded. "Alright then, hang on!" And with that, the creature jumped. He heard Eren (and possibly Mikasa) cry out in shock as, in a single bound, the blue and white being leapt to the nearest house and jumped away into the distance. Hannes watched him go, jaw hanging open at the inhuman show of agility and speed. He and those belonging to the military had been trained with how to use ODM Gear to make great leaps from building to building, but with the use of cables and gas canisters. The being had no such equipment and yet did it effortlessly.

Aware of eyes burning into the back of his head, Hannes turned to face Yang. The red and black being was regarding with some kind of silent judgement. Then, icily, he said. "You could have saved them."

"I know, I-" Words were leaving Hannes' mouth before he could stop them, but Yang interrupted.

"You could have, but instead you choose to run. You left her to die."

"I know!" Hannes barked, his golden eyes glaring into the red eyes of the creature. His pent-up anger and guilt flowed and poured from his mouth like liquid fire. "I know, alright, I'm pathetic! I had a chance to fight, but I didn't! _I ran away!_ Because-!" He choked briefly but carried on, tears of shame rolling down his cheeks, "Because I wasn't brave enough! Their mother was going to die because I was a damn coward! You're _RIGHT!"_ The last part of his confession was a sorrow filled roar.

The red warrior reeled back, his face unchanging yet his body language readable. His tense muscles relaxed, body going lax for a few heartbeats. Almost as if taken off guard. Then they tensed and Yang turned and Hannes remembered the Titan. Kneeling now, legs fully reformed, the smiling monster was stretching a hand towards Yang and Carla. _"Am I so pathetic that I'm not worth going after?"_ Hannes thought.

The air shimmered and wavered and Hannes watched as the thin arm disintegrated into a cloud of particles at the shoulder. The Titan didn't make a sound, merely looking at the space that had been its arm. Hannes snapped his head to look at Yang, just in time to see the two orbs on the crimson being's mouthpiece faded with used power. Utterly awestruck, Hannes was awakened out of his stupor by Yang's harsh bark. "Go! Get out of here, you coward!" And with that order, the being leapt away to follow his brother.

Hannes watched him go, looked back to see the Titan's arm already regenerating, and quickly shot out his cables to the nearest building to get away. Not once did he look back at the Titan, the air rushing over him making him aware of the cold lines running down from his eyes and the burning in his heart. _"I am a coward."_

Hannes retreated, wondering if he would ever be able to look any of the Yeager family in the eye again.

* * *

Air washing over him, to the point where it almost hurt to have his eyes open, Eren's willpower was put into overdrive in the tasks to both not lose the contents of his stomach or bladder and to not to make unflattering sounds as he and Mikasa were carried over the roofs of houses. The initial jump had startled him, drawing out a cry, and he was determined not to let fly another.

He had gritted his teeth when they quickly approached the edge of the first house and any fear was quickly replaced by awe when they literally sailed over the space between the house they were one and the one Yin landed on after. They travelled that way, leaping from housetop to housetop, heading in the direction Hannes had pointed out for them. Glancing behind him, he saw that Yang was having no trouble keeping up with them, only a few steps behind them. His mother was silent in his crimson arms.

 _"Mom..."_ The worry that clenched Eren's heart dropped with the aforementioned organ into his stomach when they made another jump. He suddenly wondered if this was how those of the Survey Corps felt when they used their ODM Gear. If so, at least he now had an idea as to what to expect.

Turning to face forward, fear stabbed itself between his ribs when he saw a Titan two blocks away. The warrior wasn't slowing down. He wasn't changing course. And it was only when they were a house away that the blade of fear twisted itself. Eren's small hands grabbed the metal arm around his waist, trying desperately to get Yin's attention. "H-hey!" He called out, figuring that words would reach farther than physical actions. Armour didn't feel, after all. "There's a-!"

"I know." Was the calm yet undeterred reply.

The Titan was in a sitting position, its head rising to look at them as they approached. Its lips and teeth were caked in wet red. As disgust and hate filtered in with the fear and etched itself deeply onto Eren's face, Yin sped up subtly. Over the wind roaring in his ears, Eren was certain he heard the blue warrior mutter: "Wretched abomination!" And then, as they neared the edge of the roof and the Titan's hands rose with the intent to grab them, Yin jumped and threw his legs up. The soles of his oddly shaped, armoured feet connected directly to the monster's forehead and the Titan _fell back_. Eren had a front row seat, watching in awe as the Titan fell into its back and its skull issued a loud _crack_. So close was he, as Yin bent his knees, that Eren could see the roots of the Titan's mop of brown hair.

And then, in a single bound, they were away and onto another home. "Show off!" Looking behind, Eren saw Yang was still behind by a good distance but now on the same rooftop.

Without stopping or turning back, Yin yelled back. "It was right in front of me! What was I to do?"

They continued on, over houses that were either broken in by Titans that had moved on or burning from fires. Perhaps the shock waves had knocked stoves over, who could say? Below them, Eren briefly saw the surviving people either running and screaming in terror or remaining where they were and refusing to move. Fear had rendered them immobile. Eren watched it all in horror before he closed his eyes and turned away, unable to take any more. A part of him wanted to make the brothers save them but a larger part of him suppressed it. It was selfish and cold-hearted, he knew, but he didn't want to share the help the duo had so willingly offered him and his family. He just wanted to live past today.

He just wanted to see Mom smile again.

The Wall was looming closer and closer, the means for survival only a few short minutes away. Eren saw the crest of the gate, getting closer by the second. Eren wondered how the other members of the Garrison would react to the beings who had saved him and then his mind grimly questioned if any of them were still alive. Hannes and his friends never inspired much confidence in Eren.

When they reached the main road that led straight to the gate, Yin came to an abrupt halt. Looking behind at the approaching footsteps, Eren saw Yang come to a stop behind his brother. Mom was so close that Eren wanted to reach out and touch her. "What's wrong?" Yang asked, not sounding at all out of breath. As if they hadn't just trekked most of the town in under a handful of minutes.

"They've lined the entrance with cannons," Yin replied, dipping his head as a substitution for pointing. His hands were full, after all. Eren peered down the street and saw that yes, the Garrison had set up cannons. Eren wondered what effect, if any, they would have on the Titans.

"So?" There was a flare of impatience in Yang's voice.

"So," Came Yin's patient response. "I'd think it best that we _don't_ give the men with the cannons something new to shoot at. Especially not when we're carrying civilians." Yin looked up at the top of the Wall that separated Shiganshina from the rest of Wall Maria's land. After a few heartbeats, he said. "Follow me."

He jumped to the house that stood opposite them, leaping over the space between them in a single bound. Yang followed. They moved a few blocks away from the road that led to the gate before turning right and heading back towards the Wall. Eren understood, then, the blue and white being's plan. Still heading in the same direction, just away from anyone who could potentially harm them.

The only question was how they were going to get past the Wall.

"Are you two afraid of heights?" Yin asked as they approached the Wall. Only two rows of houses separated them.

It was such a random question, so completely out of the blue in their current situation, that Eren took a moment to fully understand it. He shook his head in answer, seeing Mikasa do the same.

"Then get ready," Yin said as they crossed over the last house in their path. Once they reached the edge, he leapt off—

And then they were _flying_.

They were soaring upwards, the air washing over them, heading towards the top of the wall without any sign of slowing down. Eren cried out in shock, gripping the arm that held him with newfound urgency, staring down at the increasingly shrinking ground and was quite certain Mikasa did the same thing. Idly, he noted that the orb in Yin's abdomen was glowing.

As wind washed over him like waves of water, making his eyes shut and his hair waver upon his head, Eren recalled one of his many discussion with Armin: Flight is a scientific impossibility. At least, that was what most people said on the matter. They said that flying was only for the birds, the only creatures on record that could fly, and that man was never meant to be off the ground. Other, though, would say that humanity forgot how to fly due to years of being subjugated by the Titans. Eren agreed with the latter theory, mainly due to how appealing the idea of people flying was.

It was another reason he wanted to join the Survey Corps.

To become part of the Wings of Freedom.

The roaring stopped as quickly as it started and Eren opened his eyes to gasp at the sight before him.

They were on top of the Wall, overlooking the lands of Wall Maria that stretched out before them. Lush green forests covered hills that stretched as far as the eyes could see, Wall Rose a white blur in the distance. Below was the area where he and Mikasa had collected firewood from mere hours earlier, the small cluster of buildings scattered about, and a fresh green land where he, Mikasa and Armin would spend hours playing in. The trees swayed gracefully in the wind, untouched by man and his foolish tampering with nature and the lake gleamed with a pinkish light as it reflected the early evening sky.

Unable to tear his eyes away, he unconsciously tugged at the arm around his waist and was lowered gently to the Wall's surface. Wordlessly slipping out of the hold, he stepped forward to the Wall's edge. "Careful." Someone said gently but Eren couldn't have cared less to find out who said it. He stopped at the edge and stared, feeling Mikasa come to a stop behind him.

Eren had never seen the world he knew from such a height before. It left him breathless, in awe of how different everything looked from his perspective. It all looked so small and insignificant, like those toy houses Dad said kids in Wall Sina owned. The sheer scope of it all dwarfed anything Eren had ever known before.

And the sheer tranquillity of it all made the hell behind them seem like a horrible dream. But Eren knew he was no dreamer. He could never, in a million years, imagine such creatures like the brothers.

Footsteps behind him, then: "The world is a beautiful place, and worth fighting for." Yin's voice had a philosophical air to it and Eren turned to see the blue armoured being also staring out at the lands before them. The comment made Eren smile for some strange reason. Perhaps in the fact that this creature, one of two beings who had so far proven to be greater than anything human Eren had ever known, could appreciate the beauty of what laid before them.

Still smiling, the boy looked back out and nodded to himself. It was beautiful.

Another set of footsteps and, turning to face him, Eren watched as Yang intoned. "I only agree with the second part."

Yin made a soft sound of amusement as if he had been told some private joke. He then turned to face his brother, looking primary at Mother. "How is she?"

"She's in bad form." The words were daggers to Eren's heart. "We can't put this off much longer, bro. We need to work on her now."

"Mom..." Eren felt his eyes burn as he looked at her, his mother's pale face. He looked at her legs, disgust coiling thickly in his stomach at the blood that stained her red skirt with dark patches. To his mounting horror, he saw the blood dripping off her boots.

"Hey, hey." A warm hand fell on his shoulder and Eren flinched, turning to meet the fathomless red eyes of Yin. His voice was soft and gentle. "Don't worry. Everything's going to be okay, I promise."

Promises. Eren held those in high regard. He had made a promise to himself to get past the Walls, he had made a promise with Armin to see the sea. He held the promise his father had made with him today, that he'd see the contents of their family basement.

The last one, he reflected sadly, may never be met now.

Fear began to reignite in him, clogging his lungs. A natural response that he hated and wished would stop. Everything he had ever known was falling apart and he was powerless to stop it. He took a breath, trying to drown out the fear with reassurance. The words from Yin, one of the two who had saved him, promising that everything would be alright. That they would save his mother. He wasn't sure how the blue and white warrior would do it, part of him even wondered if they were words said merely to comfort him, but for now, they were all he had to keep himself together. He nodded quietly.

Yin gave his shoulder a small squeeze before straightening and walked forward, near the edge of the Wall, pointing at something within the distance. "Those must be the boats that man was talking about." Eren followed his extended finger and looked downwards. There, in the cannel below, the two boats designed for emergency evacuations rested. Even from the distance between them, Eren could easily see that they were almost fully loaded. The rest of the town, perhaps most of Shiganshina's residents, was pressed into a duo of large crowds who were being held back by soldiers. The civilians were pushing forward like a wave of panicking flesh, their movements making a ripple effect as they tried to achieve salvation, every last one of them desperate to escape death at the hands of a Titan.

Suddenly, hitting Eren like a brick, the boy wondered if Armin was in that crowd.

"Two boats for an entire town? _Really?_ " Yang questioned, his voice stained with disgust. He shook his horned, armoured head. "I don't believe this. These fools haven't planned ahead at all. They're going to leave all those people behind!"

"Not if _we_ have anything to say about it." Yin turned and walked until he could see the town over the other edge of the Wall. Smoke climbed up into the sky in wispy trails. "This is getting more abysmal by the second." Eren heard him mutter grimly, before turning back and taking him and Mikasa into his arms. "Let's go, we're wasting time."

The warrior then stepped forward towards the edge of the Wall—and walked off it. Eren grunted at the feeling of them abruptly stopping after dropping about two feet down. The metal orb in Yin's waist was glowing. For what must have been the third or fourth time that day, Eren found himself awestruck. They weren't flying this time, but instead were floating. In mid-air, the ground a good 50 meters below them. Looking to his right, the boy saw Yang floating as well.

The two glided downwards gently, a smooth descent towards the boats. The air was soft as it flowed over them, the boats growing closer with each passing second. They moved silently and Eren quickly realized that the world had quieted as well. He looked down at the crowd below. With fascination in his green eyes, he watched as the panic died down and the crowd become still. People stopped pushing against people and stop crying out for their lives, all eyes watching them as they made their way. The armoured warriors didn't seem to notice.

Silence overthrew the panicked and desperate shouting, reigning supreme in the dying day.

Then, shattering it, a voice called out. "Eren!"

The boy's heart leapt at the cry, recognition flooding his mind. His eyes flying, scanning the sea of faces until he found the owner of the voice. His eyes locked with the wide blue ones of his best friend on the first boat. "Armin!" Eren's face cracked a large, relieved smile.

Without being prompt, Yin glided towards the boat. Yang followed. Eren noticed, as they approached, that the people were making a wide berth as they came into landing. Their expressions suggested fear and downright terror as they watched the two come to stand on the boat. Armin's Grandfather had his hands on Armin's shoulders, looking paler and older than he had ever seemed before.

But Eren didn't care about any of that. These people and their fears meant nothing to him as he wiggled himself out of Yin's arm and charged at Armin, catching the blonde in a tight embrace. He felt his friend freeze for a moment before his arms curled around him. Not a moment later, Mikasa was wrapping her arms around both of them and Eren could feel her shake slightly.

Right there, right then, it was just the three of them. Three friends, the best of friends, together. Their happiness defiant in the face of chaos.

Then Armin's Grandfather had to spoil it by talking. "Eren, Mikasa! What is this? What's going on?! What're- Oh God, _Carla!_ " His voice went from loud baffled panic to a taut anguish breath. It brought Eren away from his friend's relative, turning to see Yang gentle lay Mom onto the floor. It was the hammer that shattered the silence that sat upon them all. Eren heard the whispers start, ranging from blind fear to accusations, gradually begin to grow in volume. He watched as Yang gently brushed the loose strands of hair that stuck to Mom's sweat laced forehead.

He was moving forward before he realized it, throwing out his arms as he shouted. "WAIT!" And though the fear in the eyes of many didn't falter, Eren knew he had gained their attention for a moment that would be gone as quickly as he had gained it. He felt the eyes of Mikasa and Armin, Yin and Yang, and perhaps the whole of Shiganshina on him. With as firm absolution as he could manage, he said loudly. "These two _saved_ me, my sister and Mother from a Titan! They're _not_ our enemies! _They're not even Titans!_ "

"What are they then?!" Eren turned in the direction of the voice, meeting the sharp silver eyes of a tall, ageing man. His face was lined with wrinkles and his hair was high up on his head, parted to the left with the sides and back being much shorter. He was dressed in what looked to be rags, a rope tied around his waist to keep it all together and it was the golden bands that hung over his chest told Eren who he was. He was one of the Wall freaks, those who believed the structures to be Gods.

Before he could formulate a scathing reply, Yang spoke up in a hard voice that beckoned no argument. "We're here to help. That's all you need to know." He was still at Mom's side and the people looked on with a mix of horror and awe that he had spoken. Yin said nothing, standing still and silent. He was watching Eren, the impression of his unblinking eyes unmissable, but Eren didn't meet the gaze.

Looking around, he saw the various faces fall into what could be classified as solemn expressions. Some had eyes shining with distrust, others seemed too afraid to move. And there were those, like Armin's Grandfather, who looked ready to take action if they had to. The Wall Freak, Eren noticed with dark pleasure, looked downright traumatised. Looking to Armin, seeing the trepidation in his friend's eyes, he gave him a reassuring nod that was sadly met with a dubious stare.

Eren turned his eyes to his mother's prone form, seeing her fulling. Blood continued to leak out of her wounds in steady streams, staining the beige wood beneath her crimson. Her skirt stopped Eren from seeing the full extent of her injuries, but the ugly lumps projecting from beneath the garment told him everything. _"My legs have been crushed."_ She had told him, her words cutting his heart and destroying his hope. She was beyond help, is what she had tried to tell him and Mikasa. They filled Eren with a sudden, swooping sense of doubt and fear.

How could she possibly be helped now?

Yin was at Yang's side, saying. "I'll do this part."

Yang looked up at his brother. "You sure?"

"You carried her here. It's only fair I heal her."

They stared at each other for a long moment, their faces unchanging. Eren wondered how creatures without facial features could communicate, but something passed through the silence as Yang stood and gave Yin space. The blue and white being crouched by Mom's side paused for a moment as if hesitating, before saying softly. "Don't let anyone interrupt me." Eren watched as Yang looked around as if hunting for any potential problems before taking a few steps back. He looked at Eren once he was near Armin and Mikasa, gesturing him to come his way. Eren obeyed, coming to stand beside his friends.

Yin stretched his right index finger and it turned into a sharp blade, reaching down to cut a line in the middle of Mom's skirt with an audible tearing sound. He pulled the sides apart gently, exposing her legs to the warm late afternoon air. Eren swallowed as some people gasped and winced, Armin's Grandfather swearing lowly, feeling sick. There was bone jutting out in odd placing on both bloody legs. Neither brother reacted in the slightest. Yin held both his palms over the middle of both, above the damaged limbs. What he thought he was doing, Eren had no idea, but he watched with rapt attention and desperate hope as the armoured being took a deep breath and just stopped breathing altogether.

The metal orb in his forehead flashed with power.

Eren felt an odd itching erupt over his scalp, as though a squad of ants were running over his head and biting him. He ran a hand through his brown hair, but there were no ants. The itching persisted, getting worse with each passing second. Glancing at his friends, he saw Mikasa put a hand to her forehead as her face turned with vexation and Armin was rubbing his eyes as if they were irritated. The other civilians, he noted, were all showing signs of either being sick or disoriented. Yang seemed to have turned into a statue, standing so still that time itself seemed to slow to a halt around him, the orb in his forehead dimly lite.

Yin was equally still, the orb in his head pulsating like a heart. The pale palms of his hands were glowing a bright, ethereal white.

Eren felt as if everything he knew was being stretched and frayed as the tension mounted. It was difficult to think, to breath. He felt small and so very young, scared in a way that differed from the fear that had swarmed his heart since he saw that large skinless Titan peek over the Wall. Just when it seemed that the whole of creation would shatter and full apart under the stillness, everything yanked itself back into place and Eren drew in a massive breath. As his lung took desperate intakes of air, he was idly aware of everyone else looking deeply rattled and pulling themselves together. Some seemed to have even fainted.

Yin pulled his hands away from Mom's legs and though covered with crusted blood there were no wounds. No split skin or jutting bones. A pair of smooth, normal legs. Eren stared at them, a familiar sight, numbed with disbelief. Behind him, he heard Armin's Grandfather mutter something about divine intervention.

Eren's heart spluttered when Mom's eyes fluttered open, her golden brown orbs confused and bleary. "What...?" She croaked; face creasing with confusion and fear before Yin brushed his hand over her forehead and she fell silent, her eyes slipping close and face falling slack. Yin then moved from a crouch to a sitting position and heaved a sound that Eren believed to be a deep sigh, heat gushing out of the sides of his face. Even though his face offered no emotion, his body spoke of a great weariness.

Eren moved forward, body numb. His heart was screaming, pounding in his ribcage, hoping beyond hope that what he had just seen was real and not a sign that his mind was finally breaking under the strain of the day. When he came to stand a foot away from his saviour, he reached out a trembling hand. He wanted to place it on Yin's shoulder but found himself incapable of closing the distance.

"I've put her to sleep," Yin answered the unspoken question, his distorted voice low. He sounded sapped of strength. "Best that she rests for now." He turned his blood red eyes to Eren, eyes so inhuman and strange that they should have terrified Eren, speaking in a voice that implied a warm smile. "She's going to be alright, Eren. She'll be as good as new when she wakes up."

Wakes up, he said.

His mother was going to wake up.

Good as new, he said.

His mother was going to be alright.

She's going to be alright, he said.

His mother was going to _live_.

Eren felt a rock lodge itself into his throat, cutting off words as his breathing became deep and frantic. His eyes burned and his vision blurred as he dropped to his knees and took his mother's hand, pressing it to his eyes. It was warm and soft. His body heaved and sounds left his throat that he didn't recognize and sounded rather undignified but it _didn't matter_.

Mom was going to live.

Everything was going to be okay now.

* * *

Armin watched Eren cry.

As far as memory served him, and it did quite well if he said so himself, Eren had never cried. At least, not in his presence. Unlike himself, whenever Eren got hurt or upset, he never responded with sadness or tears. It was always anger. Anger was Eren's response to anything that came his way and didn't agree with him, almost literally in some cases. When they didn't agree on matters, anger. When he fought the bullies who picked on him, anger. When someone said something that didn't fall in line with what he believed in, anger.

Anger, unrelenting and sometimes blinding, was Eren's response to most things in life.

Of all the people Armin knew, only Aunt Carla seemed to have the best calming effect on Eren. So perhaps it was the fear of losing that calm, the fear of losing that one thing that Eren couldn't truly get mad at, that had brought such fear into Eren's heart.

And perhaps it was the simple relief of knowing his mother would be alright that brought forth tears from Eren's eyes now.

But regardless, Armin thought no less of his friend as he pressed his mother's hand into his face and cried. He watched as Mikasa went to join him, throwing her arms around him as his body shook with palpable relief. She was shaking too, Armin noticed, and not for the first time did he wonder what had happened to Mikasa before she had entered their lives. What the story was behind the scarf around her neck.

It was comforting, in an odd way, to see them both like this. Eren and Mikasa, the strongest people he had ever known, nearly coming apart with relief at the knowledge that Aunt Carla would live to see tomorrow. It was nice to see them undone by the same thing that affected other people, he summarized.

The blue and white creature, a thing with a form so unnatural that Armin found himself staring unabashedly at him, was still sitting. He -was it really a he?- watched as Mikasa gently rocked Eren back and forth, face unreadable. Armin twitched when the other, the red and black one who was near identical save for the colours, finally broke his stillness and moved to his double's side. Offering him a hand, he lifted him to his feet. Yin swayed a little where he stood. "You alright?"

"Yeah, yeah." The blue one waved his free hand and it looked as though it was an effort to raise it at the wrist. "Just give me a moment."

Armin noticed then that the other civilians that had earlier looked at the duo with fear and mistrust, who Eren had bravely stopped from either attacking the two or flying into a panic, were now staring at the warriors with eyes full of equal amount of reverence and fear. Though the former was stronger than the latter and some people had hands stretched out as though they wanted to touch the two but did seem able to go through with that wish. Perhaps they felt that they weren't worthy.

They were whispering amongst themselves, passing along what they had seen to those who hadn't been able to glimpse it. A woman who had her legs ruined was now able to walk again. It defied explanation. The only thing that it could be classed as was a miracle.

The blue one seemed to collect himself, making a deep, metallic rattling sound like an inhale, standing tall whilst the metal orb in his forehead flashed with power. He looked at the people around him and his brother, and then looked to Eren and Mikasa as they stood over Aunt Carla. Nodding silently to himself, he then turned his head to the top of the Wall. Armin followed his gaze, saw the smoke that trailed into the sky and felt a pang in his chest when it became painfully apparent that his home would be gone for good. There was no coming back from this. "Come on," He said, his soft distorted voice ringing clearly in Armin's ears. Any previous weariness was gone, replaced with steel. "We're far from finished here."

The red one nodded without a word and followed his brother as they made their way to the edge of the boat. Armin watched them. When he opened his mouth he intended only to speak the words, but they came out as a shout. "Wait!"

The two warriors stopped just as they were about to place their feet on the rail of the boat. They turned and looked at him. Armin cringed under the intensity of their unblinking crimson eyes, feeling his Grandfather's hands clench his shoulders. When they didn't say anything, do anything, he asked as clearly as he could. "W-what are you two?"

Grandfather spoke up before he could get an answer. "You're not human." It wasn't an accusation, despite the touch of suspicion in his voice. It was an observation, a fact that needed to be spoken aloud. Armin wished he hasn't tossed it so bald-faced as he did.

Without a single shift in their expressions, the two move their gazes from Armin to Grandfather. The blue one said. "No, we are not."

Armin looked up to see his Grandfather nod.

"Then what are you?" A woman from the crowd around them asked. She looked at them with her hands clasped together like a prayer. "Are you angels?"

The red one gave a short, surprisingly bitter chuckle. "We're _far_ from that, lady."

"Devils?" Hissed the man in robes, glaring accusingly at the two. Armin knew him as one of the preachers of the Walls.

"Sir," The blue one said calmly, without a smidgen of anger. "If we are not human, why must we be divine?"

"Because there is nothing else!" Snarled the man, anger and fear potent in his voice.

"We don't have time for this shit." Muttered the red one, sounding impatient. He took steps forward from his companion and said loudly. "We are Guyvers." He put a hand to his chest. "I am Guyver Yang, the Black Guyver." He pointed to the other. "This is Guyver Yin, my brother. The White Guyver."

The whispering rose in pitch, becoming heated and awed. Armin looked around, seeing the emotions fly over people's faces. The miracle workers had named themselves. What were Guyvers, Armin had no idea, but he knew that it was a matter of little importance to the people around them.

"Yin and Yang." Armin heard Eren breath and turned to find his friend looking at the two with wide, wet green eyes.

"Seriously? You're playing _that_ card again?" Yin sounded quite annoyed, perhaps even a little bit embarrassed. "We don't even-" He stopped dead, suddenly turning very still. His head turned suddenly to face the gate, moving stiffly, like a bird's. The metal orbs on either side of his heads move in the same direction. "Oh no..." He breathed and his voice was filled with horror.

Yang's voice, by contrast, was laced with furious disbelief. The orbs in his head were moved in the same way. "They're closing the gate. The cowardly sons of bitches are leaving those behind to _die!_ " His words reached Armin ears and strangled gasps of horrors punched through the air from the others.

Armin felt a cold pit open in his chest. He didn't know how the two of them knew this but he knew that it was the truth. And he knew that, if the Garrison were performing such actions, then things had finally reached the point of no return.

This was it, he realized. All the awe and wonder of Yin and Yang's appearance whisked away in the reawakening of the tragedy that had befallen them all.

This was the end. Shiganshina was lost.

"We have to go." Yin snapped and there was a note of urgency in his firm voice. " _Now!_ "

"W-wait, I-!" Whatever Eren had to say was lost under the sudden clap of air that washed over them all like a wave of water. So great was it that Armin had to close his eyes, clinging to his Grandfather's arms, feeling his hair fly about atop of head. Some people cried out. It was over as quickly as it had started and Armin opened his eyes to see Eren had fallen onto his back, along with some other people, and that the Guyvers were gone.

All that was left of them were splintered indents in the wood. The silence was broken quickly by the cries of the people still on the bank, crying out for the beings to save them.

Eren ran to the rail of the boat, looking. Mikasa was at his side in a heartbeat. Armin, after pulling free of his Grandfather's loosen grip, immediately joined them.

The three of them stood there by the rail, three friends who had made it through the chaos, looking on as two beings that defied everything that they had ever known fly back into that chaos.

* * *

A storm raged inside Estevan's chest.

It roared thunder that rattled his rib cage and spat lightning that seared his heart, burning all other thoughts from his mind.

Whatever angered Estevan, no matter _what_ it was, he confronted.

The bigger the threat, the greater the challenge.

And the end results, more often than not, were messy.

And it was one of the banes of knowing Joshua Martin who, ever the calm Brit that never angered easily, grabbed him by his ankles and yanked him back. "Stop!" He barked, taking him by the shoulders now and shaking him. Estevan could easily picture his expression under the Guyver. "This is going to solve _nothing!_ You _know_ it won't!"

Hovering in mid-air, Estevan slapped his hands off him. "We can't let them do this! They're leaving people to _die!_ " Thunder roared in his ears. Soon he'd be spitting fire like a human flamethrower. "We have to do _something!_ "

That, he knew even amidst the storm, was somewhat hypocritical of him. It was blasted away by a bolt of lightning.

"They don't matter!" Josh yelled with a struggling calm, like someone struggling to hold driftwood in a perilous sea. "We have to help-!"

He stopped. So did Estevan. So did all the noise of the civilians that crowded the bank.

Stomping. Something large and heavy was coming, its footfalls audible even on the other side of the wall.

The two looked at each other, knowing that the conversation was over. The storm seethed silently, never truly extinguished, but now he was deaf to its thunder. They flew upwards the length of the wall, coming to land and jog to the other end. Overlooking the path that led to the gate, they saw the source of the sounds making its way towards them.

Estevan boggled at the sight. "What the-?!"

It was a Titan, 15 meters high. At first glance, that was all Estevan saw, another Titan. However, looking over its body a second time, he realized that it was far more than just another Titan.

In place of normal flesh, the giant had plates of golden armour covering the entirety of its body, except for the muscle tissue behind its knees, elbows, and feet. The glow of its eyes was visible from the distance they were at, white organic lenses like a camera's eyes, and it has short, silver grey hair atop its head. It was a bulky creature, with broad shoulders and a six-pack that would leave people jealous if it were on a normal person. Its body, with the thick muscles and armour, had to be heavy in mass.

"What the actual hell is that?!" He spat.

"Some kind of...armoured Titan." Josh breathed. To Estevan's disgust, he then said. " _Fascinating_."

'Fascinating' was _not_ the word Estevan would use in the same sentence with Titans, so he stared at Joshua until he realized just how much he didn't care for his brother's opinion of the thing.

Judging by the Brit's reply, he felt the anger in his silent gaze and choice to ignore it. As usual. "Look at it: A Titan with actual defence. With a body like that, it should be resistant to just about anything the people throw at it."

"And us?"

"We should be able to take it. Although its size might prove an issue and we have no idea who dense that amour-"

Josh's abrupt halt didn't require explanation. Estevan knew he could feel it too. The Guyver had been working away with it, slower than Estevan would have preferred, perhaps just as discombobulated as they were with the situation. It saw the creatures, understood the potential threat they possessed and decided to give its host a leg up. Being the good, _helpful_ parasite that it was, it fed the information directly into Estevan's brain, telling him that he could fight the creature on equal ground. To an outsider, they would have just seen the Control Metals on both Guyvers flash.

To a layman, it was basically the Guyver saying: "New technique unlocked!"

The only thing missing was a pop-up icon.

"There's no way…" Joshua breathed, disbelief thick in his voice. "Surely not…"

The people down below saw the Titan as it came to a stop at the top of the path and Estevan heard their sounds of shock. Clearly, this creature wasn't a common sight. He watched as the Titan shifted and move into a crouched position before, in a burst of speed despite heavyweight its armour should have caused it, charged. It had a straight path towards the gate. He watched as cannonballs slammed worthlessly into its body, leaving no hint of damage.

Its objective was clear.

"Well?" The was no reason to put forth the question. Estevan knew what Josh's answer would be the moment they both saw the strange Titan.

"…Let's go," Joshua said and his voice was firm and without flaw.

Estevan grinned under the Guyver's expressionless face, a feral thing akin to a wolf smelling blood.

* * *

Hannes had made it the inner gate of Shiganshina as quickly as he could.

As he had feared, all of the town's people had fled to the boats for salvation. Really, the crafts were stationed for cargo transfer up to Trost, but the size of them made them ideal carriers for large numbers of people. In worst case scenarios, they were to take civilians on the canal up to Trost, to the safety of Wall Rose.

Hannes prayed to whatever God looked over this shitty world that things wouldn't get _that_ bad.

Shiganshina may have been breached, but as long as the inner gate remained, they should be able to contain the situation. That, of course, was hoping that giant Titan from earlier didn't turn up to repeat its actions.

And Hannes had some hope. He may not have been their favourite person, but he believed that Yin and Yang could turn the situation around. They were more powerful than any number of soldiers could ever be, perhaps greater than the _entire_ Survey Corps combined, and they clearly cared about people.

Hannes didn't know what they were and where they came from, but that didn't matter. They had done what he couldn't, just because they wanted to save Carla and her children, and that was enough. They could save them, all of them.

They _had_ to.

And that hope became greater, became desperate when the gate began to lower. Hannes was in the gate's chamber quickly than lighting, trying to take hold of the situation. He may have been a coward, but he had enough sense to know that this had to be stopped.

"Are you crazy?! There are still people out there; you have to give them a chance! Keep the gate open!"

The soldier, whose name escaped Hannes at the moment, look how Hannes must have when he came face to face with the Titan. Every time he blinked, he could see that damn _smile_ — "We can't let the Titans get through the inner gate! They do, and the handful of people out there will be the least of our problems! If they break through, there won't be enough resource for humanity in the next Wall!"

Panic and anger clenched Hannes' heart. The words were true, he knew, but he dreaded how the warriors would react when they learnt about this. He highly doubted there would be mercy for any of them. Between them and Titans, he would rather take the latter. "We're soldiers, we don't get to decide who lives or dies!"

Rushing footsteps behind him. "What are you waiting for?!"

Hannes looked over his shoulder at the two men at the entrance. Their names he remembered, Tyson and Wald. The latter cried. "The Titans are about to get through the gap!"

That was the last straw. "That does it!" Barked the solider -No, his name was Rinehart- turning to those who stood by the mechanisms that keep the gate up. "Bring her down!"

Hannes then remembered that Hugo was still out there.

Hugo who, despite his love for alcohol and rounded appearance, could snap into duty faster than any other member of the Garrison regiment stationed here than Hannes knew. Himself included.

His friend, who right now would be commanding the cannons outside the inner gate. Hannes knew Hugo well enough to know that he wouldn't leave his post.

His friend was going to die out there.

"No!" Hannes cried and his voice was punctured by a blast of air. His heart froze. The warriors, they were coming. They knew. They knew and they were coming to pass judgement on them all. When he realized that Tyson and Wald had him in by each arm, he struggled desperately. "Let me go! You don't understand! _They're coming!_ They'll kill us all for this!"

A flicker of confusion filled Rinehart's fearful gaze. "Who's coming?"

Hannes didn't answer. A sound stabbed the air, followed by another. Stomping. Something large and heavy was coming their way. They all turned their eyes upwards, listening.

Then the sound stopped, briefly, and restarted. This time faster. Not stomping, _running_.

Hannes slipped through the loosen hold Tyson and Wald's had on him and ran out, feeling the ground shake under him. He heard the blast of cannons, the crash of cannonballs impacting into something. Amidst the stomping, he heard screaming, saw soldiers pour through the gate in terror, and then felt a shard of ice spear him as Hugo's terrified voice rang clearly through the chaos:

"Retreat! _RETREAT!_ Close the gate now! We're being charged! Go! _Go!_ _GO!_ "

Charged? By _what?_

The stomping grew louder and closer and just when Hannes thought he'd get a front row seat to the destruction of the inner gate, blue and red shone through the gate and from over the Wall and the sound of two heavy things crashing to the ground rang through the air.

The following noises resounded through the air: the _gong_ -like sound of a bell being struck, the sound something heavy grinding into dirt before stopping. The sounds of something large moving through the air and metal being repeatedly struck was like a chorus of cannonballs firing.

The sounds echoed in an otherwise silenced world.

Hannes watched as the men who had run desperately through the gate come to a halt, looking behind themselves in bafflement. Hannes ran past them, towards the other end of the gate. Though he already had an idea of what was happening, he had to see it himself. He had to. He came to a skidding halt just before the lowering gate.

Stopped, and stared with his jaw hanging open.

This sight he would see forever:

He would see the being known only as Yin and Yang, battling the creature later dubbed the Armoured Titan. Standing a towering fifteen meters tall, the average Titan height, he would see them fighting side by side against their opponent. Their fists flying in blurs of red and blue, he would watch them push back the abnormal Titan.

The lowering gate was the only thing that snapped Hannes back into action as it came down to obscure his view. Quickly, Hannes ran back to the other end whilst the battle echoed behind him. There, the people of the Garrison were discussing among themselves. He didn't need to guess that they had seen the duo. He saw their expressions range from awe to fear, amazement and terror. To his joy, Hugo was with them. The man was staggering towards him, looking pale and out of breath with a sheen of sweat on his brow. "H-Hannes, did you see that?!"

"Hu-"

"I-it was armoured! Head to toe! It- It ran at us!"

"Hugo, I-"

"And there was this light and then those _things_ came and-!"

"Hugo!" Hannes grabbed his friend by the shoulders and shook him firmly. "Listen to me: Get. A. _Grip_. Our town needs us at our best right now!" He saw clarity flood the rotund man's eyes and watched his cheeks turn red with an embarrassed flush. Hugo held his pride quite dearly. When he tried to stutter an excuse, Hannes gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Forget about it, man. I get it, trust me." He saw the bafflement on Hugo's face and decided he would fill him in on the details later.

Turning to the others, all of whom were looking to him for orders, Hannes took a fortifying breath.

They had jobs to do, no slouching off permitted.

* * *

 _"Okay, we are TOTALLY going against the Square-Cube Law here."_

The thought drifted through Josh's head as he and Estevan fought against the Metal Titan, who had thrown up its arms in defence to their blows. Each connection of their fists against the armour-plated forearms made a sound like a weapon smith's hammer on an anvil.

Joshua allowed himself to feel the relief in that their growth in size had gone without fail, that the expansion of their size and mass hadn't torn them apart.

It really was amazing, what their Guyvers could do.

But changing size like this had to have a drawback, a cost, so Josh waited for the inevitable catch.

When they were a couple of feet away from the gate, Josh paused his attack to pull back and slam the sole of his right foot into the Titan's metal chest. At the same time, Estevan crouched to drive a powerful left fist into the monster's abdomen. Both their attacks resounded with metal noises. The combined force of their attacks sent the Titan skidding back, it throwing out its hands to the houses at its side. Glass, wood and brick rained onto the ground as the Titan tried to find stable purchase to halt itself.

When it finally did stop, almost completely at the other end of the path, the Titan leaned forward with a bowed head. Almost as though it were heaving. Then it looked up at them, its foes, and Josh finally got a chance to look the enemy face to face.

Unlike the others he had seen so far, who all seemed to have their facial muscles locked into a frozen expression of morbid bliss, this one's armoured face seemed incapable of managing even a rictus grin. It didn't even have lips, just a thin grimace between its upper and lower jaw. Its white eyes, glowing faintly like torches, surveyed them silently. Joshua was intrigued despite himself because he was certain that this Titan was not as mindless as all the others were. It had tried to break down the gate; it was covered in protective armour as if it had been _expecting_ resistance. Like a living, walking battering ram.

As it straightened and rose to its full height, Josh saw the small dents his kick and Estevan's punch had left in the thing's armour. He grimaced.

They should have been able to do _more_ damage than that.

Hands curling into fists at its side, the Metal Titan moved forward slowly. It radiated the intent for battle, its weight making the ground shudder under its footfalls and loose roof tiles to fall and shatter on the ground. A hint of its great mass.

"You wanna go first or shall I?" Estevan's voice sounded slightly different in this height. The words were deeper, shuddering the airwaves around them. They rattled his eardrums. He was quite certain that, if he shouted, the words would be heard from the other side of the town. He also sounded unperturbed, eager for battle. Not that Josh really expected anything different.

He would have proposed a quick game of rock paper scissors to decide but the situation was too dire to allow it. He wasn't in the mood, either. With a flick of his hand, he said. "Go for it."

Estevan needed no further prompt. Josh watched Estevan break into a sprint towards the Titan, the promise of pain radiating with every step he took before he jumped.

The Titan stopped, a lurch of surprise running through its body before it quickly moved to avoid Estevan's approaching fist. Its back smashed in the fronts of two homes as Estevan flew past it, the air displaced by the missed attack running down the path like a wave that turned all the glass into glittering shards and nearly obliterating a house at the end.

Neither wasted any time, Estevan whirling from where he had landed in a crouch and the Titan moving from where it had pressed against the homes. All in the same instant.

The golden fist of the Titan was reared back for a strike, flying forward, only for Estevan to use both hands to smack down the strike, ruining its momentum. Without wasting a second, he leapt back to his full height while sticking out a knee. The sound it created against the Titan's head was not unlike the _gong_ of a bell.

The Titan reared back from the strike and Estevan wasted no time is using its discombobulation to his advantage. His left fist flew and connected squarely with the Titan's cheek, making its head snap to one side. The monster responded in kind, a left of its own crashing into Estevan's face. Estevan staggered back before righting himself, viably shaking off the pain before surging back in retaliation.

When the Titan shot a wild left, Estevan's hands went out to grasp its arms and halt the strike's progression. With a yank whilst pulling the offending limb downwards, he turned their positions so Josh now saw Estevan's crimson back. He watched his brother give the Titan a knee to the gut, barely hurting it at all before he then jumped and brought a savage right onto the Titan's cheek. It dropped to a crouch and, through his brother's legs; Josh saw the new hollow of its cheek.

Joshua's frown deepened to the point of scowling, worry gnawing his gut. He had seen his brother wipe the floor with foes far more threatening than a giant. But then they had been human-sized, both them and the monsters. They were bigger now. It seemed that the Square-Cube Law was in effect after all.

Estevan raised his right leg and brought his foot down like an executioner's axe but it was caught in an armoured hand. The Metal Titan glowered up at him and Josh's Head Sensors caught the sound of metal groaning under pressure. The Titan then rose to its full height whilst shoving, causing Estevan to flip backwards. His hands left indents in the earth before gravity brought his feet back down onto the ground. He quickly went back on the offensive, swinging a wild left with a snarl.

Josh watched as his brother's attack was blocked by an armoured forearm. The opposing arm was then punched by the Titan's left hand that came back in a backhanded fist across Estevan's face, followed swiftly by a right hook that made Josh flinch. He felt that from where he was standing. Snarling like a rabid beast, clearly becoming drunk from rage and the fight itself, Estevan's hands shot out to grab the Titan's arms and pulled, making it stumble into the homes beside it so it was now it and Estevan were facing each other.

The move barely slowed either of them down, both of them moving to strike the other in a blind uncoordinated move. Both strikes hit their targets, making both fighters move back into the homes behind them. Wood snapped, tiles fell and glass shattered. Estevan snapped out a stiff right that the Titan caught by the wrist, pulling Estevan forward to drive a knee into his gut. It pushed Estevan back to slam its right forearm into his face but Estevan blocked it with his own forearm. Acting fast, his brother gave a blow to the side and leaned back to avoid an overhead right. He tried for an uppercut but the Titan moved with surprising speed and managed to get a left jab right into the gut.

Josh heard Estevan give a strangled sound of pain and felt a cold feeling erupt in his chest when he saw his brother almost lose his footing. Almost fall from the pain. Clearly, the Square-Cube Law wasn't just going against them, it had knocked them down several pegs in this new height.

And this Titan, it wasn't just intelligent, it was _trained_. It _knew_ how to fight.

The big question: _How?_

Estevan had enough sense to move when the Titan surged forwards, taking hold of the crimson Guyver to spin and slam him into the homes it had been pushed into. Estevan threw it arms off him and pushed it, the force sending the Titan back onto the homes parallel. It fell with such force that the buildings collapsed under its weight, nearly making the monster fall flat on its arse had it not shot its hands out to the neighbouring homes for support. Estevan saw an opening and moved to take it, roaring like an animal but the Titan was quicker, rearing back and shooting out a leg, getting Estevan straight in the chest. The force of it sent him barrelling back, crashing through four rows of homes in a great burst of dirt, wood, glass and stone.

Estevan did not get back up.

"Damn." Josh breathed, somewhere between awe and horror. It had been a very long time since Josh had seen Estevan get knocked down so easily. Knocked down, but not beaten. Never beaten.

Now it would be up to him to pick up the slack. As usual.

The Titan returned to its feet and turned to face Joshua. In the setting sun, the Brit saw all the new depressions that Estevan had left on the Titan's body. And, despite everything Estevan had done to it, it moved forward. Still intent on causing damage.

Acting on blind instinct, Josh threw up his hands. "Wait, WAIT! _Stop!_ "

The Titan came to a halt. There were only a few meters between it and the gate. Josh stood between them.

Joshua released a breath. His heart thundering in his chest. Within the Guyver, he had no nervous sweat or rise in body temperature. All of that was converted into energy to propel him forward. A small comfort. "Okay. You clearly aren't like the other Titans, I can see that. You can think. So, that means you have the ability to _choose_. Please leave. Just- just walk the other way. Take your kind with you and leave these people in _peace_. Please! _You don't have to do this!_ "

What a sight it must have been, the Brit mused. He, a Guyver, begging a Titan for peace. But that was who he was and he had a sinking suspicion that it would never enter the people's minds to ask a sentient Titan for peace. Not that he could blame them.

Two sets of eyes, both glowing faintly, stared into the other. One was murky white, the other was blood red. The Titan was still for a long moment and for the span of single heartbeat Josh believed it would turn away. Then, with sudden speed, the Titan surged forward and closed the distance between them.

Josh hated the disappointment that seared his chest.

"Bugger!" Blindly, his right foot went out in a front kick, the sole of his foot connecting with the Titan's chest while both of the monster's palms shoved into his chest. His kicked had zero effect, he saw, as he the force of the shove sent him tumbling back into the gate. He bounced off it, hearing stone and chains crunch behind him as he ducked under the Titan's right strike. He blocked the following left uppercut and varied between blocking and slapping aside the following strikes with his hands and forearms.

It felt weird to fight at this height but Josh adapted quickly, almost surprised by how easily he had fallen into his preferred fighting style. The Metal Titan's strength was great indeed, as strong as a well-trained man was in his prime.

He held up both hands, palms crossed together and stumbled back when the strike hit them. He fell back against the wall and then found himself precariously close to the Titan. Thankfully, the art of Wing-Chun was made around close range combat. His arms worked together, doubling the strength of his blocks. A left blocked with his right arm supported by his left hand against the bicep, the following right blocked the same way. The next left, however, made contact. His eyes saw the mistake: The Metal Titan's left fist flying _around_ his right wrist to get at its target. The blow was punctuated by a fleshy crunch and Josh dropped down to one knee, the right side of his face flaring with pain. The Titan used this to its advantage and a right uppercut flew his way. Josh saw it and moved back just in time, the knuckles of fist grazing his armoured head.

The walls were durable enough for him, he noted as he bounced off it yet again before surging forward. He gave a front kick to the Titan's knee, causing the limb to jerk back but got caught by another left that almost took his head off. This time, though, Josh steeled himself and remained standing as the pain speared his skull. It was numbed quickly and then his hands were flying forward, his left wrapping around the Titan's left wrist whilst his right hand grabbed the arm by the elbow. He struggled, fighting against the monster's raw strength as its free hand pushed against him. While not able to use powers that could have rendered the Titan dead five times before its corpse hit the ground, he was still strong enough to grapple with it.

He forced the rim of his right hand into the elbow whilst putting his strength into his left, forcing the Titan's forearm to bend and point upwards. He moved closed, left knee jutting up into the Titan's solar plexus. The sound it made was akin to a blacksmith's hammer against an anvil. The sound came again and again as Josh kept kneeing the Titan, forcing the Titan back a few steps. He was annoyed. The metal covering the Titan's body was indeed tough. The knees were having next to no effect. Finally, the Metal Titan yanked its arm free and sent both fists at Josh's chest. The combined blow had him flying back, the soles of his feet skidding against the ground before he yelled and threw out his arms. He stopped a few meters from hitting the gate. The airwaves caused by his action were great, washing over the land, shattering the glass of undamaged windows and kicking up great plumes of dust and debris before the wind currents settled.

Joshua released a breath and the Guyver Unit expelled excess heat.

He then walked forward to meet his foe.

As he allowed the Titan to make the first move, a veil of calmness took over the Brit and a strategy formed before his eyes. The first strike he smacked away. The second, he bent his right arm so his wrist could come up and redirect the blow into his left palm. The third was smacked between both wrists, halting its momentum. As predicted, his following right to the head was blocked but it gave him time to manoeuvre the arm so that the side of his hand came into the crook of the left elbow to stop short a blow. Both palms halted a following right uppercut whilst his returning left was blocked. All as he predicted. As the Titan moved to counter, Josh made his move. His left hand grasped the back of the Metal Titan's armoured neck whilst his right hand moved to grab his own left biceps. This left the right elbow parallel with the monster's neck, its golden head standing out between the two blue arms. It quickly wrapped its own arms around Yin, hands grasping together behind his back. They were locked together.

Josh's heart sang with victory.

Josh pushed against the Titan and they stumbled back, away from the gate. With any luck, the boats holding the civilians (holding Eren and his family) were already far away from here. He prayed that be the case. The Titan tried to halt their movement and Josh swiped his feet out, missing just by a second. The Titan was certainly not stupid. He managed to wrap his left around the back of its right knee and _pulled_ _;_ trying to make it buck, but the Titan was having none of it and stretched its right leg back. Josh spread his legs slightly, trying to stay upright until his foe abruptly bent its left knee and squeezed its arms whilst pulling. They fell and Josh was reminded of the great weight the bulky creature possessed, his body bending under the strain.

They stilled in that peculiar position which left Josh with his arse sticking out. The Titan's hands were locked together over the uppermost part of Josh's back, pulling downwards, trying hard to make him lose control over his hold through raw strength alone. Despite the monumental strain weighing on his spine, he stood strong and pushed up against the weight, feeling the ground crack and splinter under his feet. He pushed his right wrist deeper into the Titan's throat and felt the straining, naked flesh. An audible sound of two different kinds of metal straining filled the air. Then Joshua heard the sound of something akin to fine china cracking.

The Titan straightened its right leg abruptly and they returned to a standing position, it broke its hold on him to deliver a strong jab to his ribs. The blow winded Josh and his hold faltered. The Titan wasted no time breaking the hold and shoving him away. Before he could react, it shot out its left leg and the sole of its foot collided with his chest. Joshua soared back, the heels of his feet skidding against the ground before his back slammed into something large and solid. The wall. Stone crunched and chains rattled as he stumbled forward, breathless and disorientated.

He then looked up and-

-the Titan bent forward, charging-

-getting close, _too fast_ -

-impact, front and behind-

- _pain_ , ribs cracking and sternum fracturing-

-stone shattering-

-dust-

-skidding-

-the Titan on top of him-

-pain-

-blood in his mouth-

-the orange sky above-

-darkness.

* * *

Hannes was there when Wall Maria was breached.

He had more or less assumed command of the situation, despite not being the highest-ranking member of the Garrison division. He had found the Captain of the Military Police division, a man called Veron Brown, whose personality forced Hannes to always make a point to avoid. The two had come to a unanimous agreement: Their differences, in station, rank and person did not matter. Handling the situation took full priority. For the first time in years of knowing each other, the two found common ground.

The Garrison unit stationed at Shiganshina was a small one, mainly due to how far they lived from the mainland, but the numbers of the MPs helped immensely. With 200 men working alongside them, Hannes suddenly found himself with a bit more hope. He and Veron had discussed plans and both Garrison and MP men worked together, searching through the town in case there were any civilians who hadn't managed to get out through the gate whilst others were trying to keep those who hadn't gotten onto the evacuations boats calm. Alone, neither unit was enough. But together, the problem at hand didn't seem too dire.

Hannes had been aware that the latter of their priorities was significantly harder than the former. With both boats fully packed and already on the move, panic would come swooping down to send the rest into a frenzy. They'd literally be clawing for survival. He had prayed that Yin and Yang took care of that abnormal Titan and had enough humanity to spare on the civilians.

He should of, he'd later admit, have been making sure all was going according to plan. However, the sounds of conflict from the other side of the Wall filled him with curiosity and he went to satisfy that urge. He flew up to the top of the Wall, followed by Hugo, Veron and a small handful of men.

Later, he would reflect that it was this urge that saved their lives.

It happened just as his feet made contact with the top of the Wall. The sound of feet stomping before a great explosion filled the air. The entire Wall seemed to shudder and they stumbled. Hannes fell onto his hands and knees, almost losing the contents of his stomach. It passed as quickly as it had approved and he moved blindly, back from the direction he had come.

What he saw crushed his hopes like brittle bones.

He saw the Titan atop of Yin, hands on both his shoulders while it knees were by the sides of his waist, the blue and white warrior laid below it with his arms spread out like a corpse. He wasn't moving. They were both lite by a ray of the setting sun, surrounded by wisps of dust carried by the wind. Clumps of stone rested around them. Hannes' mind supplied him the answer but he couldn't comprehend it, couldn't believe it. Then the Titan moved, standing over Yin, and he understood.

The inner gate of Shiganshina had been destroyed.

Wall Maria had been breached.

"Oh, _God_..." The words fell numbly from his lips.

It was over.

Everything.

It was all, completely finished.

Once again the Titan had come out victorious, casting aside the valiant efforts of humanity like annoying flies. It took the entirety of Hannes' will to keep himself steady, to stop himself from losing balance and falling over the edge of the Wall. Despair came down to crush him. It was over. There was no hope. No way to stop the Titans. What could they do? What hope was there when even Yin and Yang had fallen to them?

It was when a rage-filled cry punched the air that reminded Hannes, he'd later admit in official interviews, that he had almost completely forgotten about the Black Guardian.

* * *

It had done it.

The abomination among abominations had broken through the wall.

They had _failed_ to stop it and now there was a great hole in the wall. And through that hole, the Metal Titan was standing over his little brother.

As he charged forward, kicking up dirt and pieces of debris from his earlier battle, Estevan was only half aware of the roar that left his throat. His vision was blurred by a familiar redness whilst thunder rattled his diaphragm. He got to the Titan quicker than expected and once again launched himself into the air once he was through the hole.

This time, the Titan didn't react fast enough.

The sound produced when his fist made contact was a curious mix of metal striking and bone cracking. Something shattered under his fist. Estevan fell into a roll before coming back to his feet, quickly taking note that the boats were already gone and there was still a huge group of civilians left behind, and turning to face the Metal Titan.

To his great pleasure, his fist had dealt the most damage done to the monster thus far. The armour around the Titan's right eye was gone, leaving behind a steaming hole. Blood leaked leisurely out of the wound, dripping over the golden face, as well as from the minute cracks lining its broad shoulders. Josh was able to leave some damage himself and both had established a crucial fact: it could bleed.

And if it could bleed, it could die.

But Estevan had far more intended for the Titan before he'd send it to hell. The Titan had knocked him down and that was frankly unacceptable. He was a Goddamn Guyver and he did not fall down easy. While he could (always) trust Josh to pick up the slack, that did not take away the sting to his pride as a fighter.

He was going to make this freak pay.

The steam of the Titan's wound abated and Estevan was honestly shocked to see a golden eye in place of the flat, glowing sheen from before. It was glaring at him with unambiguous hate and was punctuated when the Titan's armoured lips parted with a crack to bellow. The roar echoed over the land.

A roar of hate. Of challenge.

Estevan was delighted. "Oh, you wanna play, huh?" Excitement burned in his blood like the sweetest poison, making his lips stretch with feral glee and his knuckles pop as his hand flexed and clenched with anticipation. His voice, deeper and radiating far in this new height, rang out in a returning cry. "Okay then, _let's play!_ "

He charged forward with a battle cry, jerking his head out of the way of a right jab, slamming himself bodily into the Titan with the noise like a car crash. The collision had them moving, pushing the Titan back against the hole it had made whilst it tried to stop them. He ground his teeth in effort, against the pain as the Titan shot body strikes at his back and ribs. They hurt but the Guyver was quick to numb him to the pain. They walked over Josh's prone form and Estevan took some solace when he saw his brother's Control Metal was undamaged.

Finally, when they were halfway through the hole, the Titan dugs its heels into the ground and brought them to a jerked halt. Estevan reacted on instinct, throwing himself onto his back whilst spreading his legs at the same time. A pair of hands clenched together, brought down like a hammer, passed through open air. Estevan brought his feet together, pulled back his legs before shooting them forward, his heels connecting the monster's forehead with a crack.

Once he jumped back to his feet, his crimson eyes leaving a blur of red in the dark, he wasted no time. A kick to the thigh, a second kick to the ribs. Neither had that much effect but brought him a few precious seconds to perform his follow up. He spun, anti-clockwise, hopping as his left foot shot out to slam into the Titan's chest. It staggered back and he pressed on, moving to grapple with it. Estevan intercepted both arms when it tried to grab him, taking the right by the bicep and the left by the shoulder. Pulling with the right and pushing with the left, he forced the Titan's torso to twist and diminished its ability to swing a punch.

He pushed against it, shoving it back through the final stretch of the hole. Light blew away darkness and they were back within Shiganshina. With a quick glance, Estevan saw the Titan trudging towards the break. This was gonna be close—

Shit. At this rate, he wasn't going to have nearly as much fun as he was hoping. Better make the most of it while he could.

With all the force he could muster, he pushed the Titan away to gain some distance. He then leaned back and jumped in place, curling his legs to his chest and placing his hands on the back of his thighs. Allowing gravity to do its job, he waited until his back was parallel with the ground below. Then his legs shot out together, getting the Titan in the chest. The blow was enough that the Titan was sent off its feet, crashing onto its back along with Estevan. It quickly sat up into a crouch just as he leapt back onto his feet, the tiles of nearby houses falling loose when his feet reintroduced themselves to the ground with shuddering thud.

The Titan glared at him with its newly mismatched eyes, one milky white, the other a venomous gold. Its armoured lips were still parted, allowing the American to see its clenched teeth.

The proof of its hate, of how he was steadily angering it, only fed the burning glee within Estevan. Where it not for the Guyver, his face would be hurting from how hard he was smiling, such was the sheer animalistic quality of his expression. To others, the unreadable Guyver showed the merest hints of trembling. They would never have been able to tell it was born from elation.

He was going to win. Without question, without a doubt.

Estevan rose a hand and curled his fingers, inviting the Titan to its death.

Like an idiot, like the countless before it, it rose to meet him.

Closing the distance between them swiftly, the Titan drew back its right fist in a strike. Estevan shoved it aside with his right hand, crashing the back of his left fist across the Titan's already hollowed cheek. A straight right jab from him was diverted by a wrist, the following left hook colliding with already damaged wrists. A hard right to the dented guts broke the Titan's defence, leaving its face wide open for a left hook. It met the repugnant face with a satisfying noise.

The right hook which would have greeted the Titan's face was stopped short, the wrist grabbed by the Titan's right hand. It acted fast, driving a solid left into Estevan's face. The force of the strike whipped his face to the side, straining his neck with whiplash and exploding stars in his vision. He couldn't clear his vision fast enough, a blow to his solar plexus knocking the air from his lungs. Through bleary eyes, Estevan saw the Titan claps its hands together and rear them back before swinging them like a hammer. It felt like being hit by a hammer, with the way it collided with his chin and knocked him off his feet. He flew back into a house, the structure collapsing into a heap.

He regained his sense quick enough to see the Titan stomping towards him; hands stretched out to most likely grapple him. Rolling to the side and leaping to his feet, he shot a left jab that was smacked aside almost contemptuously. A hard left struck him again, sending him back. Before he could recover, the Titan's right hand clasped the side of Estevan's head and slammed his skull onto the roof of the house beside them. Yanked back to his feet, held fast by the horn on his head, the Titan then rammed its left fist into his chest whilst letting go of its hold on his horn.

Estevan barely felt the ground under his back when he stumbled back, falling when his legs gave out from under him. Hacking, he could taste copper in the back of his throat. He tried to push himself up but the effort he needed to simply push himself up with his hands was monumental. He fell back down, gasping. His ears were ringing and darkness was creeping into the corner of his vision.

He realised with a distant surprise that he was drained. He was tired.

What the fuck? That shouldn't be possible. Scratch that, it was _impossible_.

When he was within the Guyver, he _never_ got tired. He could go toe to toe with a Zoalord and have enough energy to fight an army of Battle-Type Zoanoids.

He'd been in the Guyver in this world for barely half an hour and he felt as if he was ready to pass out.

Footsteps. Then, a shadow fell over him, blocking out the orange sky. A single golden eyed stared down at him. Estevan stared up at the Metal Titan, wishing it could see the lack of fear on his face. He wondered if the Titan was going to stomp on his throat, crushing his windpipe in a single blow. He would have if the roles were reversed.

But the Titan didn't step on his throat. It, after peering down at him, moved and walked away, it footfalls making the ground tremble.

What?

It was leaving him behind, unharmed. When he was down and barely able to get up?

—Did it not think he was worth the effort?!

The explosion of rage in Estevan's chest had a blast radius that went from his fingertips right to the soles of his feet. His breath spluttered and felt warm, too warm, like fire coiling in the back of a dragon's maw. Rage gave birth to energy and with a snarl; he slammed clenched fists onto the ground, leaving craters. Suddenly, it was all too easy for him to turn and push himself onto a knee. His eyes homed in on the Titan, already a few strides off, and he shouted, " _Hey!_ "

The Metal Titan whirled back to face him and in its visible, single golden eye was disbelief that quickly gave away to fear and it was _good_.

Then the Titan started running away in earnest.

" _Get back here!_ " Bellowed Estevan, surging to his feet in a sprint. A familiar redness returned to the edges of his vision. Tiredness all but a distant dream, Estevan felt like he had the power to tear the world apart with his bare hands. Though he would much rather tear apart something warm and full of blood.

A 'normal' Titan, slamming into him from out of nowhere, crashed them into a house, interrupted his pursuit. Completely thrown off, laying in a mess of broken wood and stone, Estevan grappled poorly with its pawing, gore caked hands before his hands found purchase on the monster's neck. Pushing it for distance away from its salivating smile, shoving his knee into its pelvis, he threw it over him and headfirst into another home.

Jumping back onto his feet, another cascade of fury washed over Estevan when he saw how far the Metal Titan had gotten. Strength filled his muscles, bulging under his skin, ready for another sprint-

"Yang! Where are you?!"

-Only to falter at his brother's voice. Looking back at the ruined inner gate, horror stabbed into him when he saw two Titan already making their way into the hole. "Oh, Christ!" Without thinking, he charged towards them.

As he did, he spared a glance over his shoulder and just saw the glimmering form of the Metal Titan in the distance. A deep growl rumbled through clenched teeth, a snake of fire coiling around his heart. _"The next time we meet, I'll kill you with my bare hands!"_

Anger, worry and the promise of vengeance giving him speed, Estevan made it to the inner gate in time. In darkness, he grabbed the Titan closes to him by the head and slammed it against the ruined stone beside them. The action brought him enough time to give a kick to the back of the knees of the other Titan, causing it to buck and fall.

Holding the first Titan firm against the stone with his right hand, he brought up his left and flexed his fingers. He imagined them turning into claws and drew them forward into the Titan's nape. No luck, dull fingertips stabbing into flesh. No matter, for he simply forced his fingers into the skin and through blood and muscle until he brushed bone. With a hard yank, he tore out a clump of flesh. There was a gush of steam and a splatter of blood and with a jerking shudder, the Titan stopped struggling.

Tossing the body aside, he reached forward and grabbed the second Titan by the ankle. Yanking it towards him until he was standing right over it, he dropped forward and drove his knee into the nape. There was a crunch of bone, squish of flesh. The monster writhed under him. Taking its head in both hands, he began to pull it upwards whilst grinding his knee downwards. Skin stretched to breaking, muscles tore and bone popped. With a splash of blood, Estevan tore the head off. Throwing it over his shoulder as he rose to his full height, just to be sure, he brought the heel of his foot down on the already ruined nape. The body stopped twitching.

Stepping forward, panting, Estevan saw Joshua, crouching before the civilians. He came to him, casting glances behind him, and looked over the Brit's shoulder to see that he was collecting them into his hands. Already, his hands were full.

Of course. What else would he be doing?

Josh stood so they were eye to eye. "We have to get them to safety." He said, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Estevan looked down at his brother's hands. Hands full of living people. Giant hands full of life, saving them instead of taking them. Anger cooling to strong bitterness in the back of his throat, a smouldering heat, he grunted. "Where the hell do we take them?"

Josh turned and nodded at the waterway the boats had gone on. "Follow the path."

"How? By walking?" It would take too long and they both knew it. He looked down at those that were left and saw that to get them all to safety, it would require a few back and forth trips. He looked back and through the steam of dead Titans saw the shadowed forms of Titans converging. The facts were clear: They would be long dead before they returned.

Josh nodded at the top of the ruined wall. "We'll place them on the top of the wall. Twenty foot wide and long enough for all of them. They'll be safe up there, unless the Titan's learn how to climb."

"Solid, except _how?_ "

"I was rather hoping..." Josh murmured, crimson eyes falling downwards. Not at the people but at the metal orb on his waist. Estevan watched too, suddenly unable to breathe.

The Control Metal of Josh's Guyver Unit flashed and then so did the orb in his waist. Gently, his feet rose off the ground.

Estevan's Head Sensors rang with the gasps of hundreds of astounded, suddenly hopeful humans.

* * *

 _—back and forth, they came, bringing with them shaken but living people before swiftly departing. In less than an hour, save those that were aboard the evacuation boats and those who had died in the start of the chaos, the entire population of Shiganshina were present and the giants became human-sized._

 _Reports claim that the jumpiest of the military was swiftly stopped by the civilians, saving their inhuman saviours before they were wrongly attacked. Demands were made for their identities. Very quickly, people started calling these creature angels. Some went so far as to call them Gods. To this day, what they were was never specified nor confirmed._

 _What is known that, for the briefest moment in humanities history, hope was alive. Alive and personified by these two creatures._

 _But, as suddenly as they had appeared, they left._

 _Reports claim that, once the last of the people of Shiganshina were safely place before the outside gate of Trost, they suddenly departed. Without warning or reason, they exploded into the air and went back in the direction they had come._

 _Many despaired. Some were optimistic. They claimed that the duo, the Guardians as they would later be known by, were going to help those living in the settlements within Wall Maria. All reports collected within the following days proved this wrong._

 _The Guardians vanished, as though they had never existed in the first place._

 _A few more days later, Wall Maria was completely lost._

Page 41 - 42 of _History of the Walls_ by Sarah Stewart (Updated as of 848)

* * *

"You have to leave."

"What?!"

"Please, listen to me; you have to leave right now!"

"Who are you?! How have you found-"

"That doesn't matter! Please, you have to escape whilst you still can!

"Is this a threat?! Are you _threatening_ -"

" _They know,_ don't you understand?! _They know_ you're _here!_ They know that _I'm_ here!"

"Know? No- No, that's not possible! We've hid-!"

"Who are you?! How have you-?!"

" _Please!_ You have to _go!_ They're coming! They're coming _and I CAN'T STOP THEM!"_

* * *

 **Told you there would be a lot of changes! Let's list the important ones, shall we?**

 **1\. A** **clearer, more structured chapter.**

 **2\. Introspective character moments. The opening with Carla was a lot of fun to write. When considering this rewrite,** **that was one moment I was certain on: The chapter starts through her eyes.**

 **3\. R** **emoving that 'Yin-Yang Brothers' speech'.** **God, that was cringy. Sorry to those who liked it, though I can't imagine anyone who did, but I just could not let something so corny be in this story. It just didn't work, especially with how I was doing the characters. But who knows? Maybe it will return, in some way or form...**

 **4\. Introducing my OCs. I tried so hard to keep their identities incognito in the original draft as to keep readers guessing who the two were, picking pieces on their characters and what they had gone through. I now know that you can introduce a character and have them do things, whilst keeping their identity hidden from the others. That's what the different character sections are for. You, the reader, knows who they are, and you also get to see them through the eyes of others.**

 **5\. Foreshadowing.**

 **Few more things: I hope it's clear that Josh and Estevan end up at. They land at the same place that Eren and Mikasa were in the opening of Episode One, about an hour or two after them.**

 **Also, I gave the Guyvers a handicap for when they were Titan sized. I didn't want the duo to have their full power whilst they were at that size, otherwise they'd be unstoppable and dear** **ol' Metal Boy would be torn apart. I did have this drafted for a more expansive explanation from Josh before I remembered something: "More is Less."**

 **The reason behind their handicap will be explained in later chapters. For now, just look up the Square-Cube Law or go watch Ant-Man's films.**

 **Shout out to crod42 and Asura94 for proofreading and for help on certain scenes! Many thanks to you, mates!**

 **Till next time!**


	4. Chapter Two

**THIS!**

 **IS!**

 **SO!**

 **F**KING!**

 _ **LAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-**_

 _ **ahem**_

 **Y-yeah, this is rather late. Just about _seven months_ late, and I apologise. Well, not so much because life matters more, but I hope you're still interested to read this story. Heck, if you're reading this, then you must be. **

**I'll save explanations for why this was so late** **for the notes at the end** **, as well as info on this chapter. F** **or now, just enjoy!**

 **Something completely new! And experimental, too.**

 **(Also, I edited the prologue a bit. Mainly added some more meat to Estevan's section. Be sure to check it out!)**

 **Disclaimer - I don't own Attack on Titan, it all belongs to Kodansha. I also don't own Guyver, it all belongs to Kadokawa Shoten. I only own my OCs (Who aren't even in this chapter).**

* * *

 _"When the odds are against you, keep going. You can't think about what's being done to you now, or what's been done to you in the past. You just have to keep going."_ Tina Turner.

* * *

Chapter Two: Picking Up the Pieces

 **Four and a half hours after The Fall**

When they made it to Trost, it was well into the evening. The sun had sunken passed the end of the world and darkness swallowed up the light, stars above glittering like broken pieces of glass.

Not that any of them noticed or cared. Everyone was too busy panicking or despairing. Few people were crying; some were laughing. Most were silent.

All of them had heard the great crash of stone, and all of them knew what it meant, what it signified: The inner gate had been destroyed. It meant that those who had been left behind had now become the first in what would soon become a massive slaughter. Friends and family, they would all be dead, swallowed by the Titans.

It meant, on a wider level, that Wall Maria had been breached.

To Eren Yeager, it meant that the Guyvers had failed and a terrible fear took his heart. What had become of Yin and Yang? Had the Titan's numbers overcome them? Had they been killed? If they were to ever go back to Shiganshina, would hollow metal corpses be all they would find?

It was an irrational fear; one would argue, to feel worried for creatures that were as enigmatic to them as the Titans were. For beings that he had barely known for even half an hour.

But still, Eren worried.

And he had a good reason, he felt. He was holding the hand of his mother, warm and so very alive and he had refused to leave her side until she awoke. Yin said she would wake up. He believed that. He would wait until she did.

Mikasa stayed with them, of course, holding Mom's other hand. He had noticed the slight tremble in her shoulders and wondered if she had felt the same fear he had felt as Mom had been lifted towards the Titan's maw.

He had wondered, fleetingly, if what he had felt had been what Mikasa had felt the day he had met her.

When they finally arrived at Trost, after all the tears and heartache, all the fear and foreboding, there had been cheers.

To the shock and awe of everyone on the carrier boats, enough to make Eren and Mikasa leave Mom's side to join Armin and his Grandpa to see for themselves, the rest of the population of Shiganshina was there to greet them. Friends and family, all those left behind, had made it before the boats.

It was, in a single word, impossible.

In another, it was what one called a miracle.

And that night, as those of Shiganshina roared and cheered in their victory, Eren allowed himself to be swept away by the elation of his fellow townsfolk and hugged Mikasa and Armin without shame because it _was_ a miracle. Because the Guyvers had saved them.

Then, complaining about the noise, Mom woke up.

Mom would later tease Eren mercilessly that after he had lunged at her and caught her in a fierce embrace (one she returned just as fiercely, he would counter), that he had apologised to her at least twenty times.

Though thoroughly embarrassed, Eren didn't get angry at her. If he had said it twenty times, he had meant it twenty times.

* * *

 **Five hours after The Fall**

It was madness, all around them.

The earlier elation of survival had been washed away by the terror of Trost's population, the first reports of Wall Maria's breach reaching the ears of public people. The jittery, panicky people were already making a mad run towards the inner gate, fully believing that Trost would be destroyed next.

Those of Shiganshina, already within the Walls of Trost, already packed away in abandoned sheds and warehouses until further notice, watched on within their barely lit lodgings. Most were silent as screams filled the night, like the wails of the damned. Some more outspoken individuals waved their hands at the people's actions, and few even laughed.

What fools, they said. Worrying over nothing. The Guyvers (and some people were having trouble pronouncing that word) will sort everything out. They'll see.

When other people started to crowd them and Mom, asking questions after questions. After seeing the Guyvers bring them to the ships and heal his mother of her serious injuries, of course they wanted answers. As if they knew any more than the rest of them. It had been Eren and Armin's Grandfather who pushed the people away. Eren, who had been determined not to leave Mom's side for the remainder of the night, then found himself looking out the window, towards the top of the Wall.

He looked and waited, waited to see a familiar pair of shapes stand out against the darkness.

Another five hours passed, and there was no sign of the Guyvers. Then, official reports from the Military came through: There was no sign of these Guyvers, whom where either doubted to existed or feared as threats, and Titans were seen coming deeper into Wall Maria's land.

It was as clear as the sun was bright: Wall Maria had been well and truly breached.

And the Guyvers were nowhere to be seen.

Everyone fell silent, dread sitting heavily in everyone's hearts like invisible weights.

* * *

 **Twelve Hours after The Fall**

Mom never allowed Eren to sleep in, always walking him up to get chores done or to at least go out and enjoy the day while he could. Looking back on it now, Eren couldn't help but wonder if, as Armin had hypothesised only hours earlier, Mom was aware that peace within the Walls was only so long as the Walls were standing and thus made him live each day as much as he could.

At dawn, the next day after a sleepless night, Eren was awake. Mom, with Mikasa laying by her side, was in a remarkably deep and peaceful sleep. Armin and his Grandfather where nearby, also asleep.

While he would have been more than happy to lay back down next to Mom, to feel her warmth and take that magnanimous comfort in that she was there and alive, duty called. And that duty was finding the nearest shadowy alleyway to relieve himself in. With one final look at her peaceful face, and making sure that Mikasa and Armin where asleep, he quietly slipped away. He was not the only person awake, but nobody stopped him.

Once he was done, he stopped before re-entering the warehouse he and his family were squatting in.

Eren took a moment to look around, to really take in the sight of Trost. Dad often told him what places in Wall Sina was like from his medical outings and while not as fancy as those described places, Trost was a different world to Shiganshina. Though the area they were in was hardly used, so he understood, everything looked so different. Not just looked but smelt and _felt_ different. It was more built up when compared to his humble neighbourhood, more stone and mortar than wood and dirt.

Eren felt terribly out of place, and angry too. He had wanted to see the outside world, not the inside of the Walls. He was now just deeper in the cage.

No, he then thought. That wasn't right. The cage had just gotten smaller, and everyone was clawing for space to breathe.

It was stupid, this entire situation.

It just didn't seem real, like some horrible nightmare that they hadn't awoken from.

But Eren remembered. He remembered horror, agony, elation and awe all at the same time. He remembered warm hands and gentle promises. He remembered the miracle.

He looked up at the top of the Wall, seeing nothing.

He waited a long time.

* * *

 **Three days after The Fall**

Eren jerked awake with a cry logged in his throat. His hands flew out against the darkness covering him and then there was light, faintly. Head snapping side to side; his eyes searched for the Titan with that hideously large smile for it had been looming _right there_ -

"Eren?"

-Only to hear that voice drift tiredly from over his right shoulder and ever so slightly relax because no, there was no Titan. Not here. His heartbeat falling back to a more natural rhythm, his eyes adjusted quickly to the dark and took in his surroundings.

Looking around at the people scattered about the area, sleeping on thin sheets of cloth on a cold ground, the warehouse they were lodged in protecting them from the full brunt of the night's bite, but the chill in every persons' bones was brought on from more than just the natural elements. He could see some shivering under their blankets, and others were huddling together for solace, muttering words he couldn't hear but could easily guess what they were. Many were crying, mourning those lost and dreading the future.

Those that were awake who didn't cry merely sat on their thin bedding, staring into the darkness. Into nothing. They were of a collective many who still couldn't fathom it, that it had only been a day since Wall Maria had fallen. Eren noticed a trio of kids, roughly his age he guessed, huddled together on a single piece of bedding. With the distance between them and the minimum lighting, though, it was hard to make out their faces-

"Eren?" Came the voice again, clearly this time. Eren turned, green eyes meeting with eyes of the same colour in an older face. His father, Grisha Yeager, leaning back against the wall. Beside him lay his mother, her head leaning on his broad shoulder while Mikasa curled up by her like a kitten. Dad was still dressed in the same clothes he had worn hours ago when he left for his work, his jacket the cause of the earlier darkness. He had been using it as a blanket.

Not long after the breach, after they had left the boats and been forced to stay within the warehouses while the rest of Trost begun to panic, Dad had found them. The MPs stationed at Trost had finally come into action and were in the process of placing them within sleeping quarters when they heard his voice call out for them. For Mom.

At the sound of his voice, Mom had run, breaking from the crowd as the stressed MPs barked their irritation. Eren and Mikasa chased after her, almost losing her, and for a frightening moment, Eren was reminded of his mad run back to their home in Shiganshina.

Of running with desperation in his heart, only to be nearly crushed by horrible reality.

But this time, the world was kind, and the two found Mom in Dad's arms, him almost lifting her off the ground. They were speaking over each other, clinging desperately to the other as if the other would disappear forever. Mom, sobbing with relief, had beaten her fists into Dad's chest in what seemed like anger. Dad then embraced Eren and Mikasa just as tightly.

Eren had wasted no time filling in Dad on what had happened, fully intending to mention every detail of their encounter with the Guyvers. He had felt boundless, then, driven by excitement and pure joy. With Dad here, now their family was complete. They were all together and together; they would survive whatever would come next.

Things, people were muttering, were going to get worse long before they got better. That plans were being drafted on how to deal with the refugees. Dark mutterings of how to put the 'freeloaders' to good use. That they were going to be moved.

Mom was worried, so much so that lines were being to become permanent in her brow. Dad outwardly appeared to be the opposite, calm and soothing, but Eren didn't miss the tension of his body whenever they walked in the streets, the constant looks over his shoulders and how he seemed to eye everyone around them. As if he were expecting someone to suddenly accost them for money or food.

"Another nightmare, son?" Dad asked quietly, voice foggy with sleepiness. Eren nodded, not bothering to try and act tough. In the last few days, nightmares were as common as hunger.

With a sad sigh, Dad reached out and pulled Eren to his chest. Eren didn't resist, curling up against him, hearing his father's strong heartbeat through his ribcage. The sound soothed him more than the faint heat of the jacket as it was repositioned over them. With half his face buried in his Dad's shirt, Eren reached out from under the jacket. Without any difficulty, he found his mother's hand. He squeezed it, felt her fingers curl around his, felt her warmth.

"It will be alright, Eren. I promise."

Eren chose not to reply to that.

He was still waiting.

* * *

 **A week after The Fall**

"M-Mom? Hey, ow!"

Mom gave no reply to Eren's protests as she dragged him along, her hand like an iron vice around his arm.

In the week since Wall Maria's breach, they had been moved from the warehouse into an area where, according to Dad, the dry foods had been stored. It was an old, stone building that's only redeeming quality was that it mostly kept the night's air out. There was also more space for the refugees, more rooms for families, but doubling up still happened. Eren and his family, Armin and his Grandpa included, shared a storage room with three other families.

And not long after that, they were put to work.

The days then became that of routine: Wake up, work, stop for food, work some more, and then finally sleep.

Dad was the only exception. His medical knowledge and reputation had gained him attention, and he had been pulled aside from manual labour to assist Trost's medical staff in treating the wounded and those ill with diseases. Dad actually got paid for his efforts but made a point not to advertise this. He told them, quietly, not to let anyone know.

Eren knew why: If the others knew that a fellow refugee was getting money while the rest of them weren't for their efforts, things would get ugly _very quickly_.

Eren tried his best to adapt to this new lifestyle but constantly troubled nights, filled with jumbled messes of nightmares, the lack of decent food and the burning of his taxed muscles left his mood and temper very small. He found himself getting angry at everything little thing and snapping at almost everyone, even, to his shame, Mom.

If nothing else, the work provided a decent distraction from their abysmal reality and helped the days pass by. And he was never alone, for him, Armin, Mikasa and Mom all worked in the same area. Eren made a point not to let his mother work alone, offering her a hand whenever she needed it. He was shouted at a lot for it, for ' _slacking on his duties_ ', but he didn't care.

Today, though, was the day his temper finally reached its breaking point.

After another restless night, waking in a cold sweat, Eren felt a week's worth to work slam upon him and had announced himself with a groan. Today was the day their band of refugees were allowed to stop and breathe while another group were put to work. His entire body throbbed with pain, muscles sore from hours of strenuous work. His feet had seared with particular pain and Eren found that they were red raw with the early sign of blisters showing.

And Mikasa was there. Of course. She had hovered there, the slight furrow between her thin brows telling him everything her face did not. She was worried about him, of course, and she stood by as if he was about ready to crumble. Pain morphed quickly into irritation. Unlike Eren and Armin, Mikasa had taken to their new life incredibly well. As if she had been doing hard labour her whole life. She had always been strange, Mikasa, but now she seemed downright freakish to Eren. Not that he'd tell her that.

He had waved off her concerns and, despite the pain of his body and how his shoes rubbed against his fledgeling blisters, he got up for food. They were given very little for their efforts and, according to Armin, Trost had been suffering from famine long before everything went to hell. If they waited too long, they wouldn't get any food at all.

The sight of refugees filling the open space, all looking like they had aged decades over the past week, was no longer an uncommon sight to Eren. He had looked from one exhausted face to another, trying to find Mom (who had gone ahead to get them food), and felt little for the pain etched onto their faces. For a brief moment, a pair of men fighting over what seemed to be the merest scraps of food had taken his attention. Each barking at the other with a reason why they were more deserving of the food they fought for.

The sight had made the anger already curdling in Eren's gut surge. Fights like this were becoming as common an occurrence as people screaming in the middle of the night and he wished he had the strength to throw these people against the walls and make them understand that their anger was all being put to the wrong place. That the Titans, who were now more than likely crushing under the homes settled in Wall Maria, were more deserving.

That's when Mom had appeared, bringing with her food and a smile and Eren had been baffled at how she could still smile that same smile despite everything. The sight of her unlocked the tension that had accumulated in Eren's chest and he wanted to smile back but didn't. Couldn't, really. He lacked the energy to make it genuine. She handed them a loaf of bread each and Eren had noticed how stiff it felt in hand.

He also immediately noticed the Garrison soldier standing near Mom, a bit too close for his liking. The open contempt in his eyes had sparked Eren's anger, threatening to send it into a raging fire where not for Mom. She told him, in so many words, to behave. It was her eyes that made him pause: they had been cold and distant, a look of withheld anger that Eren had never seen on her face before.

And yet his eyes had magnetised back to the man, tracking the rose decorated shield on his back and then the words came shortly after that:

"There's nothing more gratifying than seeing our rations go to animals. Still, though, guess we've got to beef up the herd. Eat up, the Titan like their meals with a little meat on their bones. Ought to keep you in cages, shove you out to the front lines like buffers-"

There probably would have been more, but Eren kicked him (hard) in the shin to silence his venomous tongue.

Eren was so, _so_ angry that he hardly felt any pain when the man responded with a furious strike to his face that sent him onto his butt. Even as his face burned and swelled with pain, it only served to fuel his rage as he called them cowards. Shouted it for all to hear. It got the attention of the other refugees, but nobody moved to stop them. Not that Eren expected anything more.

And just when the man looked ready to beat him again, which Eren would have welcomed to show that he could take the pain, that he was stronger, Mom stepped him. Pacified them. _Apologised_ to them for his actions.

And after they had left, darkly warning her not to let Eren make a scene again, she whirled to face him with eyes burning with rage.

She snatched him off the ground, dragging him along while _ordering_ Mikasa not to follow them. Managing to get a look back, Eren saw her standing there, looking suddenly small and sad amongst the throng to people.

Mom took him to the area where they slept, where he had just woken up in a few moments prior, and all but threw him to the ground.

Spluttering, taken off guard by this uncharacteristic roughness at the hands of his mother, Eren's gut reaction was the same as it always was to conflict: to fight back. He moved his body to face her, angry words on the tip of his tongue, only to falter when he saw the expression on Mom's face.

Mom had been mad at him before, numerous times. Of course she would, though, she was his mother. That was what mother's do. Many times, Eren would admit begrudgingly; she would be right for her anger. Other times, he would argue, she would overreact.

This was not one of those times.

As Eren stared up at his mother, saw the rage etched into every line of Carla Yeager's face, he quickly realized that he might have pushed his mother past the limits of her patience.

"You _idiot_ …" Mom hissed, honey gold eyes narrowed into dagger points. "What were you _thinking?_ "

Eren gaped at her like a fish out of water before restabilising himself, finding his voice. And his anger. He shot to his feet, the pain of his body forgotten, and met her glare for glare. "You heard what he said, Mom! Don't say that you didn't! He called us Titan food, _fodder!_ He called us _goddamn animals!_ "

"I heard what he said!" Snarled Mom, barring her teeth. Eren had never seen her so incandescent before. "I also know that he was a _member of the military_. That means he can _do_ what he wants, _say_ what he wants, so long as no one gives him a reason! An excuse!

"And you did, Eren! You attacked him, provoked him, thinking what? That you could win?!"

"I wasn't going to be talked down by a coward!" Eren shouted, his voice rising along with his mounting anger. His eyes were burning with furious tears. "Talking that way about me, Mikasa and Armin, Dad and _you!_ All of us! He hasn't got a damn right to say those things, not after _everything_ we've lost!"

"I know, Eren!"

"Then _why_ did you just _stand_ there and _apologise_ to that bastard?!"

In a flash, Mom had him by both arms in a tight grip, all but yelling his face: "BECAUSE I WAS TRYING TO PROTECT YOU, YOU FOOL!"

Silence fell like a hammer. For a long, long moment, mother and son glared into each other's eyes. A casual onlooker could have looked at the two and couldn't possibly mistake them for anything other than family. In anger, they looked too similar.

Mom sucked a breath through her teeth, closing her eyes as she exhaled. With it seemed to go most of her anger. She dropped to one knee and became levelled with Eren, eyes still closed. "Trying to protect you. That's all, Eren; I was _protecting_ you. Because you are my _son,_ and I have lost _so much_ that I can't bear the thought of losing you."

"Mom-"

"What if they had decided to do _more_ than beat you? What if they decided to _kill_ you? What then, Eren?"

Eren's young face scrunched up in a scowl. He could already see that he was losing the argument and was trying to find an angle that he could use to his advantage. "I would've handled-"

Her eyes snapped open and the words died and turned to ash in his mouth. "Don't do that. Don't be _stupid_ , Eren. You know that there wouldn't have been anything you could have done if they had decided to harm you seriously. Just as your father and I wouldn't have been able to do anything to stop them. Do you understand? We're at their mercy, and that's non-existent as it is!"

Eren tried to think of a response, an argument. None came to mind.

"We've lost so much…" Mom bowed her head, hair falling to obscure her eyes. "I could count all the people I haven't seen since we arrived in Trost, all the friends I knew, and I doubt I'd have any fingers left. The home I've had for the last ten years, and all the memories I had with it, gone. _It's all gone,_ Eren, and these people don't _care_. They don't care at all…"

Any anger that burned in Eren's chest was halted when he realised that Mom was _shaking_. Murmuring to her in confusion and worry, his hands reached up to gently clasp her wrists.

The action made her _flinch_ before she suddenly used her grip on his arms to pull him into her, grasping him tightly.

Eren found himself speechless, puzzled by her actions. He would have enjoyed her warm embrace if he wasn't so preoccupied with how badly she was shivering. "Mom?"

"You _fool_ ," Mom breathed in a tremulous voice. "You foolish, reckless, _brilliant_ boy."

"Mom, what-?"

"I'm sorry." Anything Eren had to say was lost when, as she released him from the sudden embrace, he saw the tears rolling down Mom's cheeks. Her honey gold eyes looked away from his, a look of shame marring her features. "I know you hate this; I know you hate the work and how the soldiers are treating us. The way they talk about us when they think we're not listening. Being given so little to eat and going to bed cold and hungry each night. I hate it too, Eren, I hate it _so much_ …

"But there's _nothing_ we can do." She rasped, seemingly more to herself than to Eren. "Nothing we can do about this situation. We're the _problem_ , the _issue_ , and _they_ have all the freedom in the world to treat us like dirt! And the _only_ thing I can do is _protect_ what's precious to me, those few things that are left, a-and I'm not s-strong enough! I'm not, Eren!"

Tears were crawling down Eren's cheeks too. He couldn't explain the feeling brought from seeing his mother crying. All he knew was that hate hated himself for causing them and desperately wanted to stop them. Overcome by pain, Mom covered her eyes with one hand while the other took hold of his shoulder. As if he were the only thing keeping her upright.

Perhaps this was natural. Mom had been quite composed when she woke up, taking each information calmly. As if their lives hadn't been irrevocably altered. The biggest reaction he had seen her make was when Dad had found them. Other than that, she had focused on making sure that they (he, Mikasa and Armin) were constantly okay and had at least had some form of substance each day.

How long had she been sitting on this, her pain? Putting it aside, focusing solely on them? How could she manage? How did it not drive her mad?

Why hadn't he noticed sooner?

Then Mom said, in a voice thick with shame, "I must look so pathetic right now. Honestly, what was the point? Why did _they_ bother? Why was I saved? I can't do anything. It would have been better-"

" _NO!_ " Eren shouted, hands flying to grab Mom's shoulders. Her eyes snapped to him, tearful gold on blazing green, and he shook her. "Don't say that! Don't _ever_ say that! Never say that you shouldn't have been saved! _That it would have been better if you'd of died!_ "

Despite how angry he must have looked, sounded, Eren felt as though a knife had run through his heart. Pain flared in his breastbone, filling his chest, choking him. His eyes stung with newfound tears.

"Do you have any idea how frightened I was, seeing you in the hands of that _fucking_ Titan?! I thought- God, I thought I was going to lose you, Mom! And I- I-I can't, Mom, I can't lose you! I _need_ you! I need you and Dad! I- I want- I need-!"

The feeling in Eren's chest grew too large to handle, too big to name, and words failed him. They clogged in his throat like burning bile and he growled in rage, livid that he couldn't just _say_ to his Mom what he was feeling. Communicate the thoughts buzzing in his head, the fear that clawed him at night.

So, in place of words, he acted. Throwing himself at his mother, he pulled her into an embrace of his own. He squeezed her tight. "Please, please, Mom! Don't give up, _never give up!_ I _need_ you!"

There wasn't much in the way of a conversation after that. Mom held him back and they cried, together, mother and son. She apologised to Eren, over and over, beseeching him to forgive her weakness. She said that she would do better, that she wouldn't leave him. She _promised_.

And Eren, admits his tears, felt a familiar fear burn inside his heart. That feeling of _helplessness_ , when he had been thrown over a shoulder and been unable to do nought but watch as death bored down on his mother, over the ruins of his home.

A silly thing, that feeling, because death had been denied its victim. Because he hadn't lost anything, family or friends. They were still here, by his side. And yet—

And yet, even though his mother was here with him in his arms, warm and alive, fear lived inside him anyway, chewing away his brain and heart.

People died. That was a fact of life, something people accepted. That was the end of the story. Eren knew this and accepted it, perhaps more so than most other people. More so than most kids his age did, maybe.

Perhaps it was more accurate to say that Eren accepted death and dismissed it because he wouldn't let it stop him. Not when it could be prevented, as his Dad often proved to him.

That had been the situation with his mother. He could have stopped it; he had tried to.

And he had failed.

And that terrified him. And that fear clung to him like a parasite, sucking him of warmth at night. Spun dark dreams of what he had lost. Almost lost. Will lose.

This parasite will never let Eren forget how close his mother came to death, less than a hair's breathed away from being neatly bitten in to.

This parasite has told Eren, every near sleepless night this past week, that someday he will lose her. Lose his Dad. Lose Armin and Mikasa.

That he will lose _everything_ , and that they'll be nothing he could do to stop it.

He can barely stomach these thoughts.

And in the shadow of this colossal fear seethed a furious rage. A rage born of not being good enough, of being weak when he needed to be strong. For his family. For those that mattered to him. For what was left.

And that rage, that fire, was the only thing that kept him on his feet. That kept the parasite at bay.

The parasite may have well not existed.

 _"I wasn't strong enough to save you."_ Holding his mother now, that fire flared and burned like the sun. With his hand between her shoulder blades, he could feel the pulsations of her heart.

 _"But I promise…_

 _"That won't happen again."_

Eren behaved after that. He did his work dutifully, ate stale food, and kept his mouth shut when he overheard the snide comments of the military overseers.

If it made Mom happy, gave her some peace of mind, then he'd do it.

(He also started swearing more often after that, though Mom doesn't scold him too much for it. She swears explosively just as often)

* * *

 **One Month After The Fall**

They announced that a plan to reclaim Wall Maria had been devised.

Nobody could believe it; it sounded too good to be true.

Eren realised that it was when he turned to his father with hope in his eyes that immediately wilted and died as soon as he saw the haunted look on the man's face.

People were rounded up, selected for the mission, seemingly at random before Eren realised that most of those chosen were the elderly and sickly.

Of these people included Armin's Grandpa.

Eren wasn't as smart as his friend but wasn't stupid. Nor were the rest of the refugees. They knew what this meant, what was happening.

And they all shared the crushing helplessness of being incapable of doing _anything_.

Eren remembered, very clearly, how their farewell to Eric Arlert had gone.

It went like this:

 _They all stood near the open, outer gate of Trost as the chosen people began to line up. Soldiers were barking orders and handing out weapons, to which many civilians could only look at their given items in dread._

 _Grandpa Arlert (As Eren knew him) stood before them with his straw hat in hand. In the month since the loss of Wall Maria, he seemed to have aged ten years. His flesh hung from his face like old leather, and his grey hair was nearing white. He looked thin and frail, a testament to the work that had been forced onto him._

 _And yet, he gave Mom a warm smile of a man twenty years younger before they shared a tight embrace. She clung to him desperately and when she spoke, her voice vibrated with grief. "I don't know what we'll do without you…"_

 _The old-man chuckled, a raspy wheeze. "Nonsense. You'll carry on just fine, the both of you." Eren watched, throat tight, as he pulled away from Mom and regarded her with a soft smile. "You've grown up strong, Carla, so it'd be stupid of me to worry about you. You'll take on anything that'll come your way. Just-" He swallowed, squeezing her shoulders. "Look after him for me. Please."_

 _There was no need for clarification. She nodded, eyes hardening. "I will. I promise."_

 _Grandpa kissed her on the cheek and turned to Dad. They shared a firm handshake and Eren saw how tightly locked the muscles in Dad's face were, saw the pain in his eyes. "Eric," He said thickly, "I'm sorry, I-"_

 _The older man shook his head. When he looked at Dad, his eyes were hard as chips of stone. "Take care of your family."_

 _Dad's expression curled as though he wanted to scream, his shoulders trembling. Eren had never seen his father so wrought with emotion. He nodded wordlessly._

 _Grandpa Arlert then knelt to their height, placing one hand on his shoulder and the other on Mikasa. "You're strong, both of you. I know you'll do great things when you're older." He looked between the two of them as he spoke. "Don't lose that, and more importantly:_ Don't lose each other. _You're at your strongest when you together."_

 _Eren couldn't help but think that those words were directed at him, noticing how Grandpa stared mostly at him as he said the words. His eyes, he realised quite suddenly, were the same sky blue as Armin's._

 _Words were beyond him, his throat feeling as though it was clogged with dirt. He said nothing when the old-man nodded, giving him a final squeeze before turning to his grandson. When Armin all but fell into his Grandpa's arms, Eren had to look away. Had to block out the audible tears and pleas of his best friend as he implored his only living relative not to go. Had to ball his hands to fists and turn his head skywards, traitorous tears crawling down his cheeks as he used all his power not to scream in rage._

 _At the soldiers. At the world. At himself._

"Come back." _He found himself thinking._ Praying _._ "Come back, come back! Please! Stop this! _Save them!_ "

 _By the time Eren looked back, Grandpa Arlert was walking towards the rest of the crowd. He never once looked back. Upon Armin's head was his straw hat._

 _And not long after that, the outer gate of Trost closed like the maw of a great beast._

 _Guyvers Yin and Yang never appeared._

Eren learned sometime later that 250,000 refugees were sent into Wall Maria. And of that number, less than two hundred returned. Not long after that, the food shortage that had been plaguing the Walls became a less pressing issue.

Every time Eren took a bite out of a fresh loaf of bread, far better than what they had been eating weeks prior, he had to force each mouthful down his throat. It tasted like ash in his mouth.

* * *

Eren tells Dad that he still wants to join the Survey Corps.

He knew better than to tell Mikasa, who would then run her mouth off to Mom and the resulting strain that would cause her was something he was determined not to let happen. He would have discussed it with Armin, but he already knew Armin's opinion on that matter. That and he wasn't talking much these days.

Eren hadn't forgotten how his father had reacted when he had stood firm and made his case before, back home, at a time which now felt like a lifetime away, and because of that Eren felt that he was the only person he could tell the truth to without a spectacular reaction waiting for him immediately after.

Dad still worked, often at times local to the area in which they were drafted to, sometimes going away for a few days before coming back. He always promised that he would come back, no matter what, each and every time before he left. Each time he returned, though, he always looked pained and tired. Sometimes, he would all but collapse into Mom's arms. Eren tried not to think about what things a doctor of his calibre would see.

He told him when they were off to get food for the evening. Dad had been smart to save the pay he was given before the refugees were sent out past the Wall. Nowadays he was hardly paid anything.

"I know," Dad replied almost immediately, giving a single nod.

Emboldened by his father's calm response, Eren pressed on. "Everything I said before- Before. I meant it. I still mean it, nothing's changed. Not even a little bit, the Titans have to _pay_ for what they've done-!"

"Eren, stop." Dad placed a hand on his shoulder, cutting off the rambling before it became unstoppable. "I've already said it, haven't I? An inquisitive mind cannot be halted. If you want to join the Survey Corps, then that's _your_ choice. _Your_ decision. You don't have to explain it to me, or anyone, for that matter."

Eren had expected (hoped) that his father would be more understanding of his choice than his mother would, but he hadn't expected this level of acceptance. "So…you're not…mad or anything?"

"Well, it would be a lie to say that I wouldn't be worried about you, but ultimately, I wouldn't be able to stop you anyway." The large hand on his shoulder moved to his head, fingers running through hair. Eren ducked his head and made a small noise but didn't brush the hand off. He now knew to enjoy little gestures like these while he still could.

"You've never stopped once your mind is sent on something, even if it lands you into trouble." Dad smiled softly, eyes filled with quiet pride. "It's your greatest strength, son, and I know it won't lead you wrong."

Acceptance and words of pride. Dad trusted him, trusted his strength and his ability to make his own choice and handle the consequences of that decision. He was worried, of course, but wasn't allowing it to overpower him. _This_ , this is what Eren had wanted to hear from his mother before. Perhaps, if Dad spoke with her, she might see-

"There is, though, something I want to know, Eren."

Eren stilled, breath catching in his chest. He should have expected a catch.

But in place of saying anything, Dad knelt before him and placed his hands onto his shoulders. The green of Grisha Yeager's eyes was a darker shade than the vibrant one of his son's.

"Do you still want to join the Survey Corps because you want to see the outside world, to see that beyond the Walls? To fight for your friends, your family, for humanity itself?" Here, Dad's eyes became hard. "Or do you wish to aspire to something _more_ than human?"

The question was so unusual that Eren could only furrow his brows before the true meaning of the question hit him and he had to lower his gaze from his father's.

When he had made his statement before, he had lived in a world of man and monster. A cruel, brutal but simple world. A world of two factors. Now, though, it was no longer so clear cut. There was a new, unknown factor. Something greater than man and even greater than the Titans. It was spoken about in huddle chatter during work hours and whispered to frightened children at night. It was hated by the Wall Cult and forcefully dismissed by the overseers.

It was the birth of a new, desperate hope.

It was what people were clinging to, even after a month of nothing. Even after all those people had gone past the Wall and never returned.

It was what Eren would give anything and everything to be even a quarter as strong as _they_ had been.

But they weren't here. And now, Eren was beginning to accept that they might never come back.

But that was alright, because he was here. They could have saved anyone, but they had saved him and his family. He was still here and his drive had never been stronger, his determination never so unbreakable.

The Guyver didn't have to be here, because Eren was going to fight in their place.

He raised his head and bored his gaze into his father's, eyes pits of green fire. "I am going to become a member of the Scouts, and reclaim the world the Titans stole from us!"

And Dad smiled. "Alright then."

* * *

Sometime later, Eren tells his decision to Mikasa and Armin, making sure that they know that his Dad fully supported his choice.

He doesn't get the reactions he expected:

Armin tells him he intends to join too. Though Eren tries, Armin refuses to back down. He's been thinking about this for a while, he claims, and the hardened look in his blue eyes tells him that he had no intention of being talked out of his decision.

Mikasa, looking slightly defeated, says the same thing. She too refused to be swayed. She made a promise, she said, and she intended to carry it out.

Eren could only look between them, his closest friends, his family, and had the distant realisation of how they and his mother must felt when dealing with him.

He knew, then, that he couldn't stop them.

Not that he wanted to.

Then there's Mom. She says _yes_.

Eren had felt then as he did when Guyver Yin had healed his mother. A simultaneous flow of emotions:

Utterly floored and overwhelmingly happy.

* * *

Days turned to weeks turned to months.

Life carried on, hard though it was.

Almost every day of the week, they were put to work. Be it on the fields, in quarries, in the woods or the warehouses, be it rain or sunshine; their days were seldom unproductive. Each night they returned to their abysmal resting places, sore, hungry and dog tried.

Some days are good, as good as they can be, and others are bad.

Some days are so bad that Eren snaps, shouts in anger, throws down his given tools and picks a fight with the nearest unlucky soul possible. Some barely put up a fight, others do.

Mom and Mikasa are always there to stop him and they are like water on a raging fire, dousing the tongues of flame but not completely extinguishing the fire.

And it is always Mom who reminds him that, if he's going to join the Scouts, he'll need some muscle on his bones.

Eren, instead of admitting to being wrong, stops making a fuss. Those he fights either wail pitifully or silently get back to work, looking much like how Eren felt. He took solace in knowing he wasn't the only one who needed to vent.

* * *

 **One Year After The Fall (846)**

It was raining the day Eren met Commander Erwin Smith of the Survey Corps.

Any of the refugees would tell an unknowing novice working in the rain was the worst. Especially when working in a field. The ground became mud that would swallow a foot up to the ankle, rain would mingle with sweat and run into eyes, and the already poor mood would take a poorer turn.

On one such terrible day, an overseer had hollered out Eren's name, along with his mother and Mikasa's. Armin's wasn't. They were unhappy to leave him behind to do the work alone and get harassed by some of the particularly harsh overseers, but they had little choice in the matter. Refugees did not get much choice when given orders, considered lesser than ordinary civilians, and thus were treated with all the respected of livestock. But even then, as they left Armin's side, next to the overseer was a figure in military uniform.

The person, a man, did not say much to them other than terse orders to follow them. He wore a green cloak that's hood kept his face shrouded in darkness. As he smartly turned away to lead on, it fluttered in in the wind and rain, and on its back, Eren saw wings.

Within a silver crest, almost breaking free of the design, a set of wings with one-half white while the other blue. The Wings of Freedom.

This man was a member of the Survey Corps.

Any and all anger in Eren, the kind that made him want to sink his teeth into the throat of the bloated head overseer who held authority over them all, was quickly diminished.

One short carriage ride later and they found themselves outside a nearby inn. As the four of them came to stand under the overhanging porch, a shield against the elements, the man told them to wait a moment before heading on inside. In no time at all, he was back with three towels in his hands.

Without preamble, he gave one to each of them. "Dry yourselves off. If you're cold, wrap them around you." He then pulled back the hood of his cloak, showing his face for the first time.

As he wiped the rain in his hair with the fluffy towel (easily the softest thing he had felt in the past year), Eren stared up at the man. He was young, younger than Dad was at least, with short, straight black hair styled in an undercut and slanted dark blue eyes. His sharp features held little to almost no emotion as he watched them like a hawk, taking in each of their measures, and Eren felt the weight of his gaze when it fell onto him

He quickly looked away.

Something in Eren, something near instinctual, told him _not_ to make this person angry.

They followed him in; some of the people inside gave them unsavoury looks as though they were dirt on their shoes. Eren, in response, shot them a dark glare of his own that made some quickly turn away. He had taken the Scout's words to heart and had wrapped his towel around his shoulders in a manner similar to how the man wore his cloak.

They were lead to a small corner of the inn, two others there to greet them. Both were members of the Scouts, the Wings of Freedom on their breast pockets and arms. One was a woman with long dark brown hair made into a ponytail, looking rather messy too. Behind a pair of glasses, her eyes watched them with an excited, child-like eagerness that held none of the contempt that Eren was so used to seeing in the eyes of Military personnel.

The other was another man. He had the face of a noble, Eren thought, eyes scanning over the strong nose and defined cheekbones and neat blonde hair. He looked strong, body broad and stocky from years of training that made Eren feel self-conscious about his small and wirily frame. His eyes were also blue, a lighter shade, and sat perfectly within his collected expression.

The only thing that threw off the whole thing was those ridiculously thick and busy eyebrows. They were like caterpillars! Eren would have laughed but found such a thing impossible under the man's eyes. They made him nervous like the other's eyes did but for different reasons. Instead of fear of probable violence, this man's eyes made Eren feel as though he could see right through him. Strip him to his core.

This was another man not to take lightly.

The man wasn't looking at him, though; he was looking at Mom, offering her a kind smile. In a deep, smooth voice, he said. "Good evening, Mrs Yeager."

Eren tensed, shock and suspicion immediately running through him as he looked quickly to Mom to see her reaction. Beside him, Mikasa became very still.

Mom showed no shock, though, her golden eyes hard with suspicion and her shoulders square and defiant. "Who are you?" She asked, voice cool and even.

The man took her bluntness without a flinch, the corner of his mouth twitching. Eren got the impression he wanted to smile. "I am Erwin Smith, Commander of the Survey Corps." He gestured to the woman beside him and introduced her, Hanji Zoe, she was called, but Eren was hardly paying attention, his mind whirling from the revelation.

He wasn't just a Scout; he was the head of the Scouts, the top man himself. The _Commander_ of the Scouts had come to them, personally, when he could have just sent these other two in his stead. To come in person meant this was a serious matter.

And Eren had a dark suspicion as to the purpose of this meeting.

Commander Erwin gestured to the free chairs before them. "Please, all of you sit down. I was ready to order some food."

Mom bristled like an angry cat. "We don't want your _charity_ -"

"Please, Mrs Yeager, it's nothing of the sort." Erwin held up his left hand in peace. "I'm the one who brought you and your children here, am the one taking up your time, so the least I can do offer a meal for your troubles."

Dinner was stew, hardly a five-course meal and more than likely the least expensive thing on the menu. Regardless, Eren ate, unable to deny his hunger. This inn's stew had nothing on Mom's stew, he thought. More flavour than the stew had devoured in recent memory, though. On either side of him, despite the obvious mistrust they exuded, Mom and Mikasa ate too.

For a long while, there was silence as they ate. Commander Erwin seemed in no hurry as he contended with his bowl, nor was Miss Hanji Zoe. The other man, Levi, didn't eat or sit with them. He leaned on the wall not too far off, drenched in shadow, watching them. Eren couldn't help but think of how a dog would sit by, watching its master, ready to strike at a potential threat.

Then Mom put down her spoon and declared heavily. "I know what this is about."

Eren paused, mouth hanging open with a spoonful of stew raised. Looking at the Scouts, Commander Erwin was frozen similarly. Hanji Zoe, on the other hand, looked at Mom with sudden frenzied interest.

"You're here about the Guardians, aren't you?"

Commander Erwin stared at Mom, gently lowering the spoon into his bowl, before nodding.

And there it was, Eren thought, his suspicion confirmed. As if he should have expected anything else.

Mom must have had similar thoughts brewing in her mind because she huffed, lines of anger etching into her face. "Do you know how many people have come to me, both of the military and refugees, _begging_ me for more details on those two? As if I know any more about _them_ than the rest of us?" She gave no time for either person to response, barrelling on.

"Ever since that damn day, I've been approached as though I've been touch by God Himself. Who knows, maybe I was, but how would _I_ know? I never saw them; I was _half-dead_ at the time! All I remember was that my legs were crushed, my children were in danger, that death was _literally_ trudging towards us, the _smile_ -" Mom choked, head bowing. Her hands balled into fists.

Eren watched on in helpless anger. It was all true. So many people had approached them, probing for information. Those weaker, more desperate individuals had quite literally dropped to their knees (before Mom or so to be at level with himself or Mikasa), begging as Mom had said, some so hopeless that they pawed skirts and grip shoulders and screamed for salvation.

As if they could bring back the Guyvers.

As if those two could, now, do anything about the current situation.

Eren could already see this meeting coming to an abrupt and messy end. A pity, really. He had been so excited when he was the Wings.

Commander Erwin stared at Mom, contemplative, his body very still. Hanji Zoe looked slightly worried and perhaps a touch guilty, eyes flickering between the two.

"…There is information that you can give us."

The sound of Mom's hands slamming down on the table echoed throughout the inn.

"We. Don't. Know. _Anything!_ " She shouted, staring incredulously at the expressionless man sitting in front of her. Background chatter died and there was silence. "Don't you understand?! There's _nothing_ any of us can tell you that I haven't told anyone else already! Nothing that _you_ can't find out for _yourselves!_ So why can't you just _leave my family alone?!_ "

Eren would have been embarrassed by all the eyes on them if he weren't so in awe of his Mom shouting at the Commander of the Survey Corps.

Commander Erwin looked briefly taken aback before calmness resettled itself onto his face. He waited until Mom was seated and collected herself before heaving a sigh, leaning forward to rest his chin on the bridge of his fingers. Underneath that bridge sat his bowl of stew. "I'll be frank with you, Mrs Yeager. We did not call you out on any official order. And I don't think I need to tell you that our world has been irrefutably altered in more ways than one."

"Because of the Guyvers."

"Because of the Guyvers." Hanji Zoe scribed something into a small notebook had been holding since they had sat down. "In the past year, countless investigations have been done by the Military Police to ascertain as many information of those two beings, those two impossible creatures, as possible. Despite this, however, there is growing unease and distrust of this information and its distribution between fellow military factions."

"You think the MPs are holding information from the Scouts?" Mom asked, looking genuine intrigued by this revelation.

"Only those of Shiganshina and few military personnel of Trost saw the Guyvers in person, before their abrupt departure, while the rest of the Walls know them only by rumours or what they've read in the papers. This includes certain people of power within Wall Sina. They are concerned."

"Because they know their power cannot touch them, cannot influence them."

Commander Erwin gave a pleased smile. "You're very sharp, Mrs Yeager."

"I'm a mother; it comes with the job." Mom quipped. "We're getting off track. You say you're not here on official order, which means that no one else knows that you, the Commander of the Survey Corps, are here. Forgive me, Commander, but that's very suspicious."

"I have come personally because I fear that King Fritz will put forth a new law that will forbid any talk of the Guyvers." Commander Erwin said this calmly, as though he were discussing the changes in the weather and not something that was probably not meant for civilian ears yet. "What I know, currently, of them is only what everyone else has heard of them. Second-hand pieces of information. I want to hear, from you, who is said to have come closet into contact with them."

Eren was not surprised that the King would create such a ridiculous law to combat the Guyver's popularity with people. After all, this same person had thought it best to send countless hundreds to their deaths to conserve food and have the audacity to play it off as a botched recovery operation. As if no one would see through such a flimsy lie.

He looked at Mom, awaiting her response. For all his shiftiness, Commander Erwin had at least been forthcoming in his reasons for bringing them here.

Mom said. "I already told you: There's nothing _I_ can tell you. I never saw the Guyvers with my own eyes. If you want information, you'll have to ask my kids here."

Hanji Zoe underwent a frightful transformation once Eren started talking, her attention fully focused onto him. She had been otherwise calm and polite while they had been eating but now became a creature possessed of buzzing energy. Her eyes bored into him with a near manic intensity, her face flushed, heaving with barely suppressed eagerness and smiling in a hungry way that reminded Eren to _that Titan_.

He was a little freaked out.

He retold the events that had spared him the ache of unendurable loss. He spared no detail, recalling every moment as though it had only happened the other day, deciding that it was a fair transaction in return for a free meal. Mikasa offered her own opinions, with her usual lack of emotional inflexion.

He told her of the feeling of the Guyver's unnaturally warm armour, the leathery texture of their flesh, how they flew without the use of wings, their strength, the odd humanity they displayed despite their very inhuman forms, their lack of knowledge about the Titans and their kindness. Hanji showed him her sketches and he told her, to his best abilities, where to make corrections. Telling was one thing, explaining was completely different.

And then, when he had exhausted himself on information to tell, their meeting came to an end.

"Thank you, all of you." Commander Erwin said while Hanji all but drooled over the acquired information she had drilled into her notebook. "This will be tremendously helpful, should the Guyvers ever return."

"You're going to fight them?" Eren asked. It was the first thing he had said directly to the Commander.

The blonde man looked at him, his blue eyes clear and guarded. "We're hoping it won't come to that." He got up and they all rose. He extended a hand to Mom and she took it, his dwarfing hers. They shook. "Levi will return you to your lodgings."

Eren jumped when Levi stepped out of the shadows as if he had melded from nothingness into form. He had almost forgotten that he was there, had been in the room the entire time, watching silently from the sidelines. As he came up to them, Eren saw that Levi was rather short. Especially next to his Commander.

Not that it did anything to diminish the man's threatening presence.

As they made their way towards the inn's entrance, though, Mom paused and turned back. With clear difficulty, not quite meeting the blonde-haired man's eyes, she asked. "Your predecessor, Keith Shadis…Is he, I mean-"

"He's alive. He stepped down from command not too long before Wall Maria was breached. For the best, I think. He had run himself ragged; to deal with anymore would have broken him." Commander Erwin tilted his head like a curious cat. "I wasn't aware the two of you were acquainted?"

Neither had Eren, who stared at Mom with open disbelief.

Mom didn't meet either of their eyes, her gaze downcast. "It was a long time ago," She uttered, voice filled with old regret. Whatever had happened between, it hadn't gone well. Eren would leave it alone. She gave Commander Erwin a final nod of farewell. "Come along, children."

Mikasa immediately started to follow, but Eren had one last thing to do. "Commander Erwin, sir!" The man looked to him, and Eren craned his head up to meet his eyes. He was so tall, too tall! Eren proclaimed without hesitation, "I'm going to join the military; I'm going to become a Scout!"

The man blinked, looking briefly surprised by the abrupt announcement before his brows furrowed as if in thought. "Oh?" He hummed, stepping forward until he was closer to Eren, and then knelt. Even then, Erwin Smith towered. His blue eyes bored into him, looking through him, hunting for weakness. Eren stared back, fighting the urge to blink or look away. "And why do you want to join the Scouts?"

It was the same answer that Dad had asked him a year ago, and Eren had the same answer ready. "I'm going to take back my home, and kill every Titan that gets in my way." A sudden flash of inspiration truck Eren, a memory from a year before, and he added. "I'm going to make the deaths of everyone who died so far _mean_ something!"

Something like _shock_ flashed in those piercing blue eyes before it quickly, smoothly, sunk away. Then Commander Erwin smiled like a pleased teacher. "Well, then, I look forward to seeing you in my ranks."

They said their final goodbyes and got into the carriage. On their silent journey back, Levi watched Eren with intrigued eyes. When they came to their destination, as they got out of the carriage, he called out to Eren. "Hey, kid."

Eren looked back, met the short man's dark eyes through the rain.

"…Good luck."

* * *

 **Two Years After The Fall (847)**

He thinks of them. How can he not?

Work can only keep one interested for so long, and conversations between him and his family rarely happen during those times. Better to focus on the task at hand, Mom would say.

Too bad, then, that Eren had a nasty habit of daydreaming.

Yin and Yang. Guyvers, known to most as Guardians. In two years, it seemed that they had touched every corner of the Walls effortlessly.

Many called them Gods; many called them Devils.

Eren cared not for either description, thinking only of the short time he had spent in the presence of both brothers. He thought of those times quite a bit.

He hadn't even known them for an hour, but they occupied a small corner of his mind. Always there, never far away. They aroused his curiosity to unbearable degrees, sending him down rabbit holes to try and find answers to his questions.

What they had been, truly.

Where they had comes from?

Why they had appeared in Shiganshina, at that exact moment, when the Colossal Titan appeared and everything changed.

Where they were now, where they had disappeared.

These were questions of countless others, the subject of study for numerous people. Studies that had grown no nearer to their conclusion since their inception.

But focused less on those and more on the one: Why had they come to him?

Why him and his family, out of the whole of Shiganshina, where countless families had been in equal amounts of peril and suffered. Why had the Guyvers invested so much of their time and effort into ensuring that they escaped alive, their wounded mother also, when they could have easily focused on the Titan and leave them. Why had they bothered with healing his mother, one mere woman, when they could have used their powers to eradicate the Titans?

These were questions that Eren sought the answers for desperately, things he could not discuss with anyone. Not his parents, or Armin or Mikasa.

True to Commander Erwin's word, government law had prohibited excessive public talk of the Guardians. People talked less about the brothers these days, at least in public settings or in hearing range of MPs. Behind closed doors, in certain circles, they were all anyone ever talked about.

Like the new cult, one that grew not too long after Wall Maria fell. That harled the Guyvers as nothing less than beings of divinity. They claimed that the Guyvers were the one true power in the world, one greater than man, Titan and the Walls (Which, of course, put them at constant odds with the Wallists). That they were the proof that there was more to this world than man and Titans, something beyond, and something worth all the pain and suffering.

These people were not afraid to speak out of their Gods, not afraid to push back against MPs, more than happy to fight Wallists in broad daylight as they denounced their faith while advocating their own.

They were fearless, these people, and Armin said that the Guyvers' influence transcended these people's fear of retribution. He said that the largest differences between the Wallists and this budding cult were that their Gods were real.

That, alone, inspired a level of fear, Armin continued, because it meant that the threat of 'divine' punishment was real for them.

The government, for all their efforts, was still afraid of the invisible influence they had on civilians.

Eren wondered if Yin and Yang would approve. He doubted it.

Except-

This new cult had approached Eren and his family on numerous occasions, much to their irritation. A recurring figure, a man with a ponytail, tells him and Mom that they are the ones touched by their angels. That they are blessed. Special.

Special.

A word Eren has never heard as a description for himself. Something no one has ever called him before.

They never attended to any of the offered ceremonies or any public grandstanding, some meeting ending more roughly than others do, but the words linger in Eren's mind, making him think. Making him wonder.

What if there was a specific reason the Guyvers came to his family? What if them saving him meant something about himself he had yet to realise? Something grand and important, something to come in his future.

What if he's special?

It is a question that makes him lose sleep, which he finds no answer to, only making him think of the hand on his shoulder and the soft, earnest words of comfort given to him when none needed to be given at all.

* * *

Dad shocks all of them when he announces, upon returning from one of his outings, that they were leaving Trost.

That they have a new home to go to.

In response to disbelieving, astounded questioning, Dad reveals that certain people in Wall Sina had pulled some strings for them. People who he had helped and thus owed him favours. He was able to strike a deal and had secured a new home in a village within Wall Rose. One that had been abandoned by the previous owners, who had retreated to a settlement nearer Wall Sina.

They would still have to work, still be expected to pull their own weight within the village, but this time there would be no overseer to punish them if they get tired. There would be no condescension or hate from any military personnel. They would be free from the strife that had hung so heavily upon them for the last few years.

Mom is almost afraid to hope, looking at Dad like a drowning man would driftwood, her eyes wet. Dad embraced her, tightly, promises that everything will be all right now. Says it again to Eren, Mikasa and Armin.

Promises. Eren had grown weary of promises, of how much stock could be put into them, how easily they could be broken or twisted.

And yet, in spite of himself, he trusted his father wholeheartedly.

* * *

It's strange, living in their new home.

The village is much like Shiganshina, rural with homes built from wood and dirt ground, though less populated and less built up. There was a river and a forest nearby, plenty of wood to collect, animals to hunt and freshwater to stock up on. There were less than hundred people living here, and almost everybody seemed to know each other. The Walls were also now a distant sight, no longer a looming reminder of humanity's self-imprisonment.

The village elder, a man named Marcus, someone who Dad seemed to have had some history with if their interactions were anything to go by, welcomed them warmly. He expressed sympathy for the plight and assured them that they wouldn't be treated so harshly as they had been in Trost. That the village was their home now.

Eren doesn't agree. His home was Shiganshina, always had been, always would be. But it was nice to be treated like a human for a change.

Though that didn't stop Eren from looking for any potential threat, didn't stop Mikasa from tensing when every man crossed their path, didn't stop Armin from flinching every time someone waved or patted him on the head.

There weren't many children at the village, none that were their age, and though they acted as children their ages acted and were more often than not friendly and curious, Eren could only stare at them like they were some undiscovered chain of humanity.

He had forgotten what it was like to be that carefree.

This village was fairly deep in Wall Rose, a fair distance from Trost and still very far from Wall Sina. A nearby military outpost would warn them if (God forbid) Wall Rose was attacked. They ought to have enough time to escape to safety, should that ever happen, the elder assured.

Eren was doubtful, and suspicion leaked into his mind when he considered this turn of events.

This village is _peaceful_ ; it has not known horror and has suffered little in the wake of Wall Maria's fall. While they provided rescores, the village was small enough that its inhabitants weren't so deeply affected by giving.

Eren wondered, fearfully, if his Dad had brought them here as a means to start again. To try and get him to give up his plan to join the military, to become a Scout.

When he confronts him, Dad only shakes his head. "I didn't do this so much for you, son." He then nodded at something behind Eren. "I did it for _her_."

And Eren had turned to see Mom chatting with some of their new neighbours, smiling, looking lighter and happier than she had in a very long time.

Eren felt like an idiot.

He decided, then, to enjoy this peace as much as he could. It wouldn't be much longer now—

* * *

They leave for enlisting. They're the only ones to leave the village, though that isn't much of a surprise.

It's hard on all three of them.

It's hard on Mom and Dad. Especially Mom.

It's hard to let go of Mom, to pull out of her embrace, hard to ignore the irrational fear that, if he lets go, he'll lose her forever.

Hard to ignore the pain it causes her, the guilt that follows.

So, as they trudge on, Eren forces Mom out of his mind and focuses on the key hanging on his neck. Given to him by Dad. Focuses with all the intensity a to-be hanged man does the noose around his neck, before the drop.

* * *

Later, instead of his Mom or the key, standing shoulder to shoulder with those who he guesses would be his allies, he thinks of his instructor.

Keith Shadis is fucking terrifying; a unanimous thought that would carry to the rest of the cadets and follow them long after their training concluded. The only thing more horrible than probable genocide was to get on the man's bad side.

He cut an imposing figure the moment he stands before them all, radiating with authority. Tall and bald, owning a voice that could rival the roar of a Titan and drop to the most frightful whisper. His piercing eyes sat deeply within his skull, shrouded with wrinkled skin to the point of being shadowed.

When he stalks past Eren, looking at him but not screaming in his face like he did Armin, he thinks one thing.

Not that this was Erwin Smith's predecessor, former Commander of the Survey Corps. Not that this was a man Mom had known before he had been born, perhaps before she had met Dad.

Eren realised that he _knew_ him.

Before the Guyvers, before The Fall, before he had that _stupid_ argument with Mom. After leaving Hannes in anger and hearing the bells, wanting to prove Mikasa wrong and met only with dismay as the Scouts returned, bloodied and broken. No victory among those still whole. Defeat had hung over them like a dark, dank cloud.

The woman, crying in the street, cradling a hand. The only thing left of her son.

And the man before her, screaming in despair. A man who had seen horrors, who was at the point of giving up.

Eren realised that he had been looking at a young Keith Shadis.

It had been two years since Wall Maria fell, and Instructor Shadis looked like he had aged ten. His hair was completely gone, the skin darker, more lines etched into his face and his voice coarser.

He remembered Commander Smith's words about how he had stepped down, how he had been breaking, and Eren could only agree.

Instructor Shadis gives no hint that he knows or recognises Eren and it is good because Eren doesn't want any special treatment. He wants to get by on his own skills, nothing else. In return, he doesn't let anyone know of how a former Commander of the Scouts became an Instructor when so many before perished past the Walls.

He reckoned the Instructor had had enough pain to last the rest of his life.

* * *

His first night is—eventful.

After having the rules drilled into their heads from Shadis, and doing a few basic exercises, the 104th Training Corps settle for food. They're given broth and fresh bread, basic but fulfilling. Eren tries not to let his hunger show.

(One girl, though, isn't so lucky but that's what happens when one eats before the Instructor.)

He doesn't hide that he's from Shiganshina, nor does he shy away from the expected questions. They ask about the Titans and, of course, the Guyvers.

Eren holds nothing back, knowing that they'd never leave him alone otherwise. Of course, the most popular subject of debate is the Guyvers, and Eren hides only that he had come so close to them.

He didn't need them treating him like he was touched by God or something.

Eren's never been one for making friends, comfortable with only Armin and Mikasa. The trio they formed was the only companionship he felt he ever needed. He's more than a little exasperated by all the questions. They must all know as well as he did that Guyvers or not, none of that was going to help them with his training.

Then he meets Jean Kirstein.

 _"This is gonna be a long three years."_ Eren thinks as he walks away from that long-faced bastard, the anger lingering like a flame as he stepped into the cool night.

* * *

Eren wouldn't say that he was certain in his skills.

He knew next to nothing about the ODM Gear, of tactical strikes or of Titans beyond the obvious. There was much he needed to learn; he knew that. Accepted it. Was more than willing to sweat and bleed to improve himself. To reach his end goal.

He was going to be a Scout. Nothing more, nothing less.

He would say, though, that he had the most drive out of his fellow cadets. Honestly, he didn't think much of those around him (Save Armin and Mikasa, of course). Some put in the barest effort or didn't care at all, and he had no time for that. The people who had joined just to have an easy life safe within the Walls (Jean) sickened him. And others were just so anxious about everything that they even think they could be soldiers left him stumped.

It was disheartening, as much as it was pathetic.

That's why, in those early days, he was nothing short of terrified when all his efforts seemed for nought. The ODM Gear refused to work for him, and even after he managed basic altitude, he still struggles. Still falls

And when he falls, that terrible fear raises its ugly head. Rises so high that even his rage is overshadowed.

Why isn't he improving, he asks himself.

Why was he failing when he had, more than anyone, a reason to excel?

Why had nothing _changed?_

Answers come not from Armin or Mikasa, but Reiner.

Reiner Braun: tall, blonde and built like the Walls himself. A wall of muscle and confidence that didn't overflow into arrogance. Remarkably kind and humble despite his obvious strength, both in body and character. A lot like a miniature Erwin Smith, Eren thought, but more approachable and— _human_ , he would say.

Reiner Braun, who doesn't laugh or scoff when Eren says he's going to join the Scouts, going to kill every Titan that crosses his path. Just looks at him with something like awe. Believes he can do it without question.

Reiner Braun, who joined the military for the same reasons as Eren: to go back home. To reclaim that which he has lost.

( _"I will do it," Reiner vowed, eyes like pieces of gold. Hard and unwavering. "No matter what."_ )

Reiner is incredible. He's driven and committed, for all he has suffered. He excels at physical trials, yet always offers a helping hand whenever he can. He's a natural-born leader but has no issue with deferring to the command or opinion of another.

He's already the perfect soldier, and he's still just a trainee.

Eren quickly grows to envy him as much as respects him and asks Reiner how he can ever hope to be even a little bit like him. How he can improve, so he can change _something_.

Reiner's answer is incredibly simple: "Just…do what you can do. Keep moving forward. It's all any of us can do."

* * *

He takes the advice given to him to heart and keeps going.

He masters it, and even then, there remains a bitter sting of disappointment.

He soars with the rest of them during training, the cables pulling him as the gas propels him forward, the world spinning head over heels as he manoeuvres through the air.

Disappointment because it's just not the same.

It's artificial, false wings made of metal.

Even as he latches his cables into a tree and propels himself up high, soaring so high up that he breaches the treetop to see the setting sun flare over the edge of the world, his disappointment sits heavy in his chest.

It just doesn't compare.

Not that he ever tells anyone this.

* * *

The first time Eren holds a blade, sitting comfortably within the blade hilts, he smiles.

It's not a nice smile. And it doesn't go unnoticed, either, if Jean's later insults and Mikasa's worries are anything to go by.

He doesn't care. The cool handles fit his hands perfectly, the blades extensions of his body. Seeing himself in the smooth reflection, he sees his dream become a little more solid, a little more real.

Graduation cannot come soon enough, he thinks.

He can't wait to drench these blades in Titan blood; gallons spilt for every drop of his mother's.

* * *

Eren didn't think it was possible, to hate someone more than Jean Kirstein.

He's proven wrong when he meets Floch Forster.

At first, the redhead barely registers to Eren. Though he does make a small handful of friends (much to his shock), the rest are blank faces he doesn't bother with while few others rise to the level of acquaintances.

It was Floch who approached Eren, made himself know. Caught him alone one night before lights out. Wanted to show him something he felt would mean something to Eren.

Unfurling a hand, a small chain of metal dangled from the redhead's fingers, a necklace of some kind. At the end of that was a small piece of metal no bigger than a coin, shaped like a coin. A circle within a circle. It glimmered in the light of the touches.

Glimmered, like how the metal within their foreheads glimmered with power. When Yin had healed the mangled mess that had been his mother's legs.

Something must have shown on his face because Floch smiled like the cat who caught the fattest mouse. "I knew it. The head of our religion mention someone with your surname, and you're from Shiganshina. I couldn't be sure, so I gambled. And it paid off."

"What are you-"

"You were there when _They_ appeared. And out of everyone who was suffered that day, in that town, They went to you. That cannot be an accident. That is _Fate_."

Eren stared into Floch's amber eyes and saw the same fevered eagerness that ponytailed man always had when he spoke of the Guyvers. God help him; he was just like the rest. He believed the Guyver to be no less than Gods, believed Eren was special because they happened to have helped him and his family.

"There are others like me here," Floch continued when Eren said nothing, looking hopeful. "We've kept ourselves hidden, watching silently. Going through the motions like the others. But we're not like the rest of them; we see the truth for what it is: It's all pointless."

A cold feeling speared Eren's chest. "What?"

"Everything." Floch gestured to the area around them, to the training camp as a whole, perhaps to the entire world itself. "All this training, all this preparation. For what? To die, to be slaughtered? To fight a hopeless battle? Two years ago, Wall Maria fell and the truth of mankind was shown: We could do nothing but die. No one could do anything. _Has_ done anything. _Can_ do anything. There is nothing we can do to fight off the Titans; we're just fighting a war that can never be won

"So what's the point, then? Simple: we pray. To Them, the Gods that revealed themselves to us in our times of need. The Gods who fought the Titans like they were no more than insects. The Gods that are real flesh and blood, unlike those hollow Walls so many put faith into." Floch reached out and placed his hands onto Eren's shoulders, smiling. "We've been so eager to approach you, Eren, to welcome you into our group. We-"

The cold feeling had long since passed, giving way to a familiar age. Smacking the arms off him in disgust, Eren took two handfuls of Floch's uniform and spun them, slamming the other boy into the barrack beside them. Floch gave a noise of surprise and could only stare at Eren, meeting the furious green glare.

"Listen to me, you shit. I don't give a damn what you and the rest of you freaks think about the Guyvers; I don't care about any of that! And you think everything is _pointless_ ; then you don't _deserve_ to be here!" He pushed him back as hard as he could. Floch hit the wall with a shuddering jolt, his skull striking the wood with a dull smack.

Stunned, the redhead gave no reply save for a pained grunt.

Releasing him, feeling sick to have touched him, Eren looked at Floch with nothing short of hatred. "Stay the fuck away from me."

With that, he turned and stormed off.

* * *

It was easy to ignore Floch but hard to forget him, hard to return him to the faceless mass he belonged to before. It was something of a tactical move that Eren knows others do, to keep a certain distance from the rest of the cadets. Because even if Shadis tells them that learning to work in a team was paramount for any division they'd wish to join, the knowledge that any of them could die made getting too close to anyone—difficult.

Shadis had told them early on that death was a very real possibility in training.

And then, that became a reality, and Eren stood in a circle with the others, watching as Thomas Wagner cried over a broken body. His bunkmate, he later learned. He hadn't known the person's name.

And then there was Floch, back up by two boys and a girl, uttering what at first sounded like condolences until the words became clearer: Floch wasn't expressing remorse, he was asking for forgiveness for the dead cadet's weakness, asking God to forgive them for producing such a weak individual.

Thomas didn't care for Floch's words. And Floch hadn't backed down, staring at Thomas calmly as he denounced the tragedy at his feet as a sign that the weak had no place in this world. That it was better for them to die now than to die later at the hands of the Titans, die for a cause that had as much worth as the dead under the ground.

Anger flew through them all, a contagion they all welcomed and were more than willing to let run its course. But Shadis appeared, stopping them from massacring Floch there and then. He had heard it all.

Floch and his followers were expelled.

But before he left, Floch approached Eren one final time. Undaunted by the hateful glare Eren sent him. By his shoulder, Mikasa hovered like a dark spectre.

Floch stopped at a respectful distance, necklace dangling around his neck. Calmly, with a steely undertone, he proclaimed. "We believe They will return, one day. Perhaps when we have suffered enough, or perhaps when we are at our worst. Either way, we will not lose our faith. And when They do return, you will be there. By Their side. Because you are one They have _chosen_."

Amber and green met across the gulf that divided them.

"We will meet again. Until then, Eren. Good luck."

And then Floch was gone, his presence slowly fading with time, like a scar healing. His words, though, lingered in Eren's mind like a sickness, like madness.

He found himself losing sleep again, wondering that damn question over and over again.

* * *

Eren reflected, at the end of the year, that he has come far but still has much more to learn. Nothing has been as he's expected and despite a few bumps in the road, his path remains unchanged.

He's proud of himself, of Mikasa and Armin, and knows they will go far.

And his opinions of the others has improved too; he's found a few who he'd be more than happy to fight along sides with. Reiner and Bertholdt, with their warrior spirits, and Marco, the leader. And then there was Annie and-

Well.

(That's a story in and of itself.)

* * *

 **Three Years After The Fall (848)**

It was supposed to be a simple training exercise.

The wasteland navigational exercise was meant to find out how well they could stay alert in non-critical situations. Eren personally found it a bit pointless, because even off duty, a soldier should never let their guard down. Only an idiot would do that.

Like Jean. The pompous prick gave the exercise as much effort as he did most things: none. Of all the people he could have been stuck with—

He had Armin and Marco in the group too, but they were the only two he could rely on. Sasha and Connie were mostly useless, the former worrying more about her stomach while the latter looked like he was hardly in the real world, and Mina and Krista could do little themselves but at least they were more competent. And less annoying.

Eren had little hope for a successful conclusion to this exercise. And expected a very displeased Shadis in their future.

And then he woke up to a scream, to the sound of hooves retreating into the distance, and looked up the barrel of a rifle.

Masked men holding them at gunpoint, and if them wanting to take their ODM Gear to sell on the black market wasn't bad enough, they were also taking Krista.

Tiny, beautiful Krista. The girl all the boys talked about, all fantasied over as the perfect wife. Eren had never seen the appeal, had never really liked Krista all that much honestly, but she was a comrade in danger and he had jumped into action. Wrestling with one of the men and trying to give the others a chance to run for it.

Except none of them did, save Jean. And Jean barely got ten steps before a spurt of blood left his face. For a terrible second, Eren thought him dead, and that was all the man needed to slam the butt of his rifle into his cheek.

They take their ODM Gear and Krista. No one else tried anything.

Eren felt lost, adrift in the feeling that washed over him. A terrible, all-consuming terror, crushing him like the entire world was on his shoulders. His chest felt like a wet towel, wringing his heart and lungs. He clenched his hands to stop them shaking.

The last time he had felt like this was three years ago.

He fled into the anger that waited in the shadow of this fear, this parasite which had gone mostly unnoticed these past two years. He was speaking but it was hard to hear past the blood pounding in his ears.

Then, though the noise, Jean voice rang out, quietly furious. "Are you fucking kidding? Because of you and your recklessness, we were in even greater danger than we already were! I almost lost my damn head!"

Krista. All he could see was her, tiny little Krista, flung over the shoulder of one of the men like a sack of flour. Looking back at them with large, worried blue eyes. Looking at them while they stood by helpless, unable to do anything.

Three years ago, he had watched his mother in the same situation. Hadn't been able to do _anything_.

 _"I haven't changed."_ Amidst the chaos in his head, Eren felt that terrible fear leech at his anger. _"I haven't changed at all. I'm still that same damn kid, unable to do anything!"_ He felt frail and weak, ready to collapse. His shoulders rose with his uneven breathing.

Marco's voice, sad and defeated. A rope back to reality: "We need to call off this exercise. We've failed."

Failed. The word was ash on Eren's tongue.

He bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from screaming. At Marco for saying that word. At Jean and the others, Armin included, for being so weak. At himself, for the same reasons timed a hundred.

What had been the point?

A year and so worth of training, and he couldn't even manage to save one fucking person.

What had been the point of even _trying?_

 _"Keep moving forward. It's all any of us can do."_

Reiner's words echoed in his skull, making him pause. Making him focus on the details.

Their ODM Gear was gone, their horses were gone, none of their strongest was with them, and they had no idea were those bandits could have gone. It was a terrible situation.

Except-

He's here.

He's still here, drawing breath, still able to move forward and why shouldn't he? Who the hell said that he couldn't?

Through tight teeth, through the tightness in his chest, he hissed out. "Are we just gonna abandon Krista?"

Marco replied almost immediately and Eren could feel eyes on him. Armin's eyes he felt the most, piercing him as surely as blades. "I'm not saying that, but we can't do this alone. We need to report this to Instructor Shadis, let him handle it-"

"And what if it's too late by then?!"

Three years ago, it had almost been too late. Eren had only been able to watch on, watch his childhood nearly come to a swift, cruel end. To watch as nobody did anything to stop it.

But then _they_ came.

But Eren had already prayed for them to avert a tragedy and had been disappointed. He wasn't going to do that again. Didn't need to that again. Didn't need Yin and Yang to swoop down and save the day because _he was here_.

Still on both feet, still breathing, feeling that terrible fear be pushed back into that corner to be ignored. Withering before the fire that flared to encompass his heart. An explosion of clarity when off in his head and the chaos dissolved. His breathing evened out and it was suddenly so clear what he had to do.

Glaring over his shoulder at them all, he growled. "I'm not giving up! I will save her, _even if I have to do it alone!_ "

"Eren…" Something must have shown on his face because Armin suddenly looked at him with such sympathy.

Eren had no use for it. He left, ignoring the voices calling out for him. Ignoring the parasite's whispers of doubt that he'd failed no matter what.

Footsteps behind him, then a hand on his shoulders, forcing him to look at a person he really didn't want to put up with right now. "Our horses are long gone, how the hell do you plan to track them?!"

"That doesn't matter-!"

"Of course it does," Jean snarled, "'cause I'm coming with you!"

—Wait; what?

Jean glowered at him, the heel of his right hand pressed into the top of his right cheek. Blood trickled slowly down the side of his broad face. Pulling his hand away, he pointed at the line the bullet had etched into his flesh.

"See this? This is gonna leave a _scar_." Jean said slowly, eyes boiling with anger. But Eren felt that only so much of it was directed at him. "I think it's only fair I leave one on the fucker who shot me."

Footsteps behind Jean and, looking, Eren was met with the determined eyes of the others. Looking at each of them, Eren saw no fear or doubt. Looking at Jean, directly into his eyes, Eren saw none of the usual laziness or loftiness.

Well.

Maybe he had been a bit too quick to call them all useless.

* * *

They work together, each of them providing to formulate a plan.

And it works.

Eren almost couldn't believe how well it had worked, how well he and _Jean_ and worked _together_. He had been certain that there was little else in this world that could surprise him anymore.

He doubted it would ever happen again.

And now here they were, all of them, peering down at the last two bandits. One held a rifle pointed at them, the other (the leader) held a knife at Krista's throat.

And there was nothing any of them could do.

Nothing _he_ could do.

His body locked in place like a steel trap waiting to go off, Eren considered the option of just rushing them. His blades had more width than the knife the man had at Krista's throat, and the distance between them wasn't that far.

But the man with the rifle threw the whole thing off unless he went for him first. Rushed him before he had a chance to pull the trigger. He had only grazed Jean, after all.

But- but what if that hadn't been a case of being a bad shot but a show of good aim. A warning shot, the only one they'd get. He doubted the man would be so merciful now.

And even then, even if it was a bluff, what if the leader's knife to Krista's throat wasn't? What if he slit her neck open before he could anything? Made the effort and danger worthless.

If he went for one, the other could act.

Either way, blood would be spilt.

And it would be his fault.

Eren looked to Jean with furious helplessness and was met with bitter resignation. Saw the still fresh, crimson line on his face and- and Eren got it.

There was nothing any of them could do.

To do anything would only make things worst.

There was nothing he could do.

But then, as they began to undo the straps of their hard-fought-for ODM Gear, two shadows suddenly fell from the trees. The rifle and knife flew from their holder's hands.

"Mikasa?!" Eren exclaimed. _"Annie too,"_ His mind added.

Simultaneously, both girls swung their blades at the men's necks but were stopped by Krista for some unfathomable reason.

Eren saw the look on Mikasa's face as she held the blade at the leader's throat and knew instantly that she was thinking of the day they met. She probably wanted to see his head leave his shoulders. Eren would have been happy to see her do it.

They let their blades drop.

Sometime later, when everything is neatly wrapped up and everyone enjoys the day off Shadis gives them for their efforts, Eren was approached by Krista. The tiny blonde thanked him for leading the charge to save her, calling him a good person and friend, saying that she would try and reply him to the best of her abilities. She looked at him in a way that was strangely familiar, but he couldn't tell why-

Then he did. She was looking at him like he must have looked at Yin when he had healed his mother.

She was looking at him like he were some kind of hero.

Eren didn't like that. At all.

He wanted to her to stop, to piss off with her gratitude. He wanted to tell her that he hadn't done what he did so he could be praised, hadn't gone out of his way to save her because he wanted to be a hero (to be like _them_ ) or even because he liked her all that much.

He had done what he did because he had to prove to himself that things had changed. That _he_ had changed. That he was growing stronger and would grow stronger still. That he didn't need someone else to hold his hand during a crisis.

Not Mikasa, not his mother, and not the Guyvers.

Of course, he ended up saying none of this, and stiffly told her not to worry about it and said that he was glad she was safe. He meant it, too.

Another smile, a quick hug, and Krista was gone. He watched her go, frowning.

—She's still creepy.

* * *

Eren's feelings regarding Mikasa waver like the seasons.

Out of the storm of emotions, two stand out clearly: Pride and irritation.

Though he focuses on his training, he does keep an eye on Armin and Mikasa. The former because he always has and always would, the latter to see how she was around other people their age. Much like himself, Mikasa wasn't one to make friends of her own accord, seemingly content with just Eren and Armin. And for the first few months or so, that seems to hold true.

Then things begin to change.

It's gradual, but Eren notices Mikasa's posture being to loosen around the others, become less stiff as if ready to pounce at someone. She mingles more with the other girls, perhaps not talking as much but intoning at certain moments. He hears that she has tea with Mina and Hannah, two people far removed from the kind of person Mikasa is, and he witnesses first-hand how she protects Sasha from some of the uppity cadets.

Most importantly, though, despite the rivalry between them, Eren could see that she respected Annie. Recognised her strength and that, underneath that cold face, Annie burnt as hot as the rest of them. Maybe she even saw her as an equal. He didn't know and didn't ask.

(Though he did notice how she glared at him when he spoke of her sometimes, but never did confront her on that)

She smiles a bit more, now and again, and Eren doubts the other really understand how important such a thing is.

Eren is proud of her. Mikasa had learned to open up, to let people in who aren't family, and she seems better for it. Happier, and lighter of her burden. And that makes Eren happy too. She more than deserves it.

But all that doesn't stop him being pissed at her half the time.

Mikasa's always had an odd penchant for being clingy to him, something he used to brush off as a result of what brought them together. Something that she would, eventually, grow out of.

But ever since the fall of Wall Maria, her habit for hanging over him seemed to have worsened. Before they enlisted, he seldom had much in the way of privacy with how she followed him about like some ghost, constantly haunting him with her presence. She would harangue him much like Mom would, calling him out whenever he got overly angry at something/someone or slacked off during fieldwork. He had endured it best he could, for he knew that her efforts were more to help Mom than anything else.

He had hoped that this would lessen by the time they enlisted. That she would back off; give him space to follow his goal. He was to be disappointed for, as impossible as it seemed, she only seemed to get _worst_.

He hated how she still followed after him, like a second shadow, even at times when he wanted nothing more than to be alone. To enjoy a simple moment of solitude away from all the noise and stress. Hated it when she questioned his motives and his choices, as if she had the right to govern his future and that those choices were not his own. Often at times when things went wrong and he would have, if nothing else, liked her support.

He _loathed_ that she still treated him like a kid, even though they were older now (She had three years on him, sure, but that was a hollow excuse), always telling him to be careful about this and to stop doing that, as if she couldn't see how much this hurt his pride. He could count the number times he had called her out for nagging him on his fingers and have none left on either hand. And yet it never seemed to sink into her skull that he didn't want her to play Mother, didn't want her to constantly remind him of the fact that sometimes he missed her achingly.

He's always been jealous of how strong she was, and that got worse after they enlisted. The sheer distance in ability between her and him was made clear in staggering detail. Mikasa quickly rose to the best performing cadet of their class, excelling at almost every task handed to her; treated most exercises like they were nothing. She had the power to surpass them all, to achieve great things, to carry out his own ambitions without any of his failings.

And he hated her for it. Truly despised her for showing him up, making all his efforts seem so pointless, making him feel like everything he did would never be enough in comparison. And how, despite how far beyond him she was, she still came back to his side. Not realising how she was his least favourite person in that the moment, how she highlighted just how inadequate he was.

He had many moments like this and they pasted, after a few hours and some serious venting.

Eren knew Mikasa would always go out of her way to protect him, would always have his back, but he feared that he might never _trust_ Mikasa like he did Armin. How could he if all she ever saw was some little kid whom she felt needed her protection?

* * *

They're spoken about often, which is a given. Three years now, and they were still a subject of hot debate.

Eren tries not to notice as much as he's able.

And yet, so many rumours and theories are made up and discussed that he couldn't help but listen in. And bite his tongue to prevent putting forth his own opinions.

They are forbidden during their class sessions, something Shadis makes abundantly clear when someone questions about them. They don't matter; they won't help in the progress of training. No point in wondering about abandoning heroes.

And Eren agrees.

And hates Shadis.

Because there was no evidence to say that Yin and Yang had abandoned humanity to its fate. It was something Eren simply could not believe.

Because if that were the case, then why had they done anything at all?

But still, Shadis was right. Thinking about the Guyvers would do nothing for his training and Eren had resolved early on not to let them influence his actions. He thinks he's succeeded, for the most part.

Somewhere along the line, he accepts that Yin and Yang may never return. And he's fine with that.

And yet, every time someone remarks about new, inhuman shaped dolls and pendants of circles within circles, he feels an ache in his chest. Of things left unresolved and unconfirmed.

Of questions he'll never get answers to.

* * *

 **Four Years After The Fall (849)**

Dad disappears.

There's no warning, no ransom note, no letter, and no body.

He just seems to disappear into thin air.

Mom's latest letter tells Eren all this, as he sits with Armin in their bunk as some of the other boys go through their mail, and the slight wobble in her writing and the odd splotch tells him of her grief.

Eren—doesn't know what he's feeling.

It felt like a hole had been punched in his chest, sucking all other emotions into it until he was left with nothing but emptiness. A hollowness so vast that he actually felt fragile. Not even his rage would surface, the fire all but gone out.

He numbly showed the letter to Armin, who of course noticed something in his expression, and watched as his friend's face morphed with disbelief, horror and finally sadness. Almost immediately, he tells Eren. "We need to tell Mikasa."

And they do, dragging her behind the girls' barracks. And while Mikasa's expression goes perfectly blank, Eren sees the disbelief and pain in her eyes.

It had been Dad, after all, who had finalised Mikasa's adoption into his family.

And it was that look of pain of her face, on strong, independent Mikasa, that rekindled his rage. It came back with startling vigour, bursting forth from the pit of his emotions to pool in his chest like a dense weight. Hands curling to fist, head tilted towards the ground, he felt his rage with every pound of his heart.

None of them said anything for a while.

Then, Armin spoke up. "It doesn't…it doesn't say that your father's _dead_. So- so there's a chance that he's still alive-"

"And that he left my mother willingly?" Eren snarled, keeping his gaze to the dirt. He felt a scream tuck itself under his chin, tried to keep it in. "That he _abandoned_ her, left her to deal with _everything_ on her own?!"

"I-I didn't say that, Eren! And- and that might not even be the case!"

"BUT IT _MIGHT BE,_ RIGHT?!" The scream shoved itself past his lips and his furious glower surged up to sear Armin. The blonde boy froze in place like a frightened rabbit. "He _MIGHT_ have abandoned her! He _MIGHT_ have given up! He _MIGHT_ have thrown away _everything_ we had done to stay together, just for the sake of his own ass! As if Mom needs _ANY MORE_ reasons to suffer!"

Eren realised, distantly, that he hated his father. More than Jean, more than Floch Forster and his fellow cultist freaks, more than those who had let Grandpa Arlert and all those others die, even more than the _Titans_. He had never felt such a concentrated, encompassing hatred towards someone before.

All he could think of was Mom, alone, without anyone for support. He knew she wasn't weak, pitied anyone who made that assumption, but he also knew that she did not deserve being alone. That she loved Dad very much.

And for him to just leave her with nothing, with not even something so simple as a goodbye, was beyond cruel. This was appalling, _sickening_.

Hadn't Dad promised each and every time that he left that he would come back?

"Eren!" Mikasa seldom raised her voice, and when she did, it was like a whip crack. He whirled to face her, saw the icy calm in her eyes and hated her for it. " _Calm down_ ; you're gonna attract all the girls here."

He wanted to throttle her for having the audacity for dropping a wisecrack at a time like this, when his chest felt like it was going to burst into a swell of flames. Such was the depth of his anger, his pain. All directed at the man he called father.

He looked between the two, between stoicism and worry, and knew that he wanted neither of those things right now. Knew that neither could give him what he needed. With a snort, an ugly, angry sound, he turned and stomped away.

"Eren!" Armin's voice chased after him but Eren didn't want to deal with his friend right now. Couldn't trust himself around either of them.

"Don't follow me!" He snarled without looking back, before breaking into a sprint. He made for the nearby forest where they trained in ODM Gear and there, alone, allowed himself to rage.

Soon rage turned to grief and he cried, great, ugly hiccupping sobs, until his tears ran dry and he simply laid by a tree. His knuckles were skinned, his eyes were sore, his face was blotchy, his voice was rough, and the hollowing feeling in his chest remained.

He feared it would always remain.

* * *

Eren met Jean's mother somewhat by accident.

It was during a training exercise in Trost, preparation for that next Titan attacked they believed it would take place. Eren wasn't sure if that made those people smart or paranoid.

Either way, Eren hadn't been too happy to return to Trost. Many of his least fond memories had been born there. It didn't help that his mood of late had been low and that Armin and Annie had been hanging around Jean since they entered Trost.

Something was going on; something involving Commander Pixis by the look of things, and Eren honestly lacked the interest to care.

He had been moving supplies at Trost's Military Outpost with Mikasa, who of course chose to help him out. He could barely lift one box whereas she, of course, could lift two as if they were pillows. And then she tried to take his because, _of course_ , she thought him unable to do it himself. Despite him telling her _no_ , very plainly.

His temper was mounting dangerously and Mikasa had been saved from an eruption by the arrival of a rounded woman asking for Jean Kirstein. For a moment, Eren had only stared, wondering what this person would want with Jean before it clicked. She had his eyes. She was his mother.

And in desperation to get away from Mikasa, before he did something he might regret, Eren offered to lead her to him.

As they went, they talked. She didn't ask his name but instead, of all things, asked him how he found training and which division he intended to join. He was honestly relieved she didn't just assume he would plump for the MPs and thus decided that she deserved the truth: he told her that training was hard for the most part and that he was going to join the Survey Corps.

And in a more refreshing turn of events, she didn't seem stupefied or questioned his choice. She was shocked, which was a predictable reaction, but Eren honestly didn't expect her to call him brave. She said his mother must have been proud of him.

That last point was something he wasn't sure on, something he really didn't want to ponder on, but he gave her an honest thank you all the same.

Eren wondered if he had made a mistake, had misheard her. There was no way this gentle woman could be the mother of pompous, stick-up-his-ass Jean Kirstein.

The second Jean locked eyes on her, and the mortified expression that swiftly curled his expression, dispelled any doubt from Eren's mind.

Mrs Kirstein pampered her son as if he were some snotty little kid and not the tall young man who had a good foot of height over her. Called him a problem child and everything, fretted over the scar now adorning his right cheek. Jean, in a rare moment of speechlessness, stared at her as if she were some ghastly spectre that had come to haunt him.

Many of the other cadets watched on with amusement, some with the slightest of envy. Eren himself was half-amused half-stunned, the latter due to the damn near uncanny resemblance that was unfolding before his eyes.

Jean was not happy to see his Mom, something he made very clear when he regretfully regained his voice. Eren could only watch as he all but pushed this gentle, loving woman away. Barking at her to leave him alone and smacked fresh red apples, brought for _them_ , not Jean, onto the ground in a fit of anger. And yet, Mrs Kirstein took it all with stride. Never once raised her voice or got angry with Jean. She even requested of them, loud enough for everyone to hear, to be friends with him even though he was a problem child.

Eren, in the process of picking up the fallen apples, repressed a snort. He also repressed the urge to kindly inform Mrs Kirstein that her son was far worse than a mere problem child. Peeking up over the table's edge, he saw Jean's expression of petulant anger was struck once again by how familiar that looked, wondered how many times he had made that same expression because of his own mother?

And how pathetic was it that Jean made it now, older than Eren by two years, all because his mother went out of her way to check up on him? How ungrateful could the prick be?

 _Very_ , it seemed, as in another burst of anger he all but had his mother by the arm and dragged her to the mess hall's entrance to shove her out and slam the door behind her. Eren watched, feeling a familiar heat kindle in his chest and he moved the cluster of apples into Mikasa's arms to make his way over to Jean unburdened.

"Hey, Jean-Boy."

The nickname worked perfectly, causing Jean enough irritation to pause that caused him to be completely taken unawares by the hook Eren shot his way. Right into the scar. Jean collapsed like loosen post, squawking in outrage.

Eren glared down at the older boy loathingly, voice coming out remarkably calm and cold. "You surprise me of how much deeper you sink into shit; you know that, Jean? I can't believe you were that much of an asshole to your own _mother_."

Jean stared up at him, hand held to cheek before his face coloured with anger. He shot to his full height, fist pulled back and-

"He's right, Jean. You were an asshole."

Jean whirled on Marco, fists clenched and trembling, a bruise colouring his cheekbone. His eyes were wide, more shock than anger, and Eren knew his expression was the same as they both stared at the freckled boy. Marco seldom, if ever, swore.

Marco's expression was uncharacteristically angry as he looked slowly at Jean.

"I can't believe you," he said and his voice, too, was furious. Not in the loud way Eren or Jean or others expressed their anger but in a quiet, chilling way that reminded Eren very much of Annie. "You were cruel to your mother, which is bad enough, but you did it in front of the rest of us. You do remember that some of us lost their mothers, right, and me and Eren might never see ours again."

Eren winced at that, watching Marco's anger grow like how flames of a forest fire grew, voice rising.

"But yours is here, alive and loving you, and _you yelled at her for it_ , and you have the _audacity_ to act like the victim?!"

Silence. Eyes, perhaps every eye in the mess hall, was on them. Eren didn't really notice; he was too busy thinking about his own mother. He could say, with certain, that he and Marco were completely right here.

Because what he would have given to see his mother now, to sink into her warm embrace and take solace in her love. To take comfort that she was still here, alive and well, and in turn comfort her for Dad's abandonment.

He watched Marco inhale, exhale, and now the freckled boy looked at Jean with simple disappointment. "I thought you were better than that, Jean."

Again, Eren withheld saying anything. He watched as Jean, pale and mute, look at Marco like he had all but slapped him in the mouth. Then, his broad features curdled and coloured, and he hissed scathingly. "Fuck you."

Looking at the others, he roared. "FUCK ALL OF YOU!"

And he turned and slammed the door behind him, but not before giving Eren his most venomous glare.

Eren avoided Jean for the rest of the exercise, and as such missed whatever had happened to make Armin _lie_ about breaking his legs.

He never did find out what happened, only that before the end, Jean spent more time with his mother. As he ought to. The prick.

* * *

 **Five Years After The Fall (850)**

Graduation rolls round.

Yet again, they return to Trost.

He makes fifth place. Mikasa, of course, makes first. And that's fine, totally fine. Not like he's jealous or anything, nope! Not at all!

Except he is, just a bit.

Well, at least he's higher than Jean.

The party afterwards is pretty enjoyable, with the others coming forth to congratulate him and Mikasa on their efforts, and with good food and ale and gaiety all around. Past experiences were recounted and futures were pondered, they still had a few days to make their final decision on which division to join.

Eren had no such thing to worry over and instead focused on enjoying himself. He felt he had earned it.

And he had been enjoying himself, quite happily, right up until he heard Jean crow about how his path to the Military Police was completely assured.

Jean. That prick. The two had never liked each other, but in recent months, Eren could barely stand being in Jean's presence without causing a fight. It didn't help that Jean seemed to revel in riling him up. There was too much about the older boy that Eren hated, too much he'd happily like to punch out.

His vision tunnelling, all other sounds fading out, Eren listened as Jean went on about how happy he was to finally be away from this 'front line town', how much he couldn't wait to scurry away to the safety of the interior like a cockroach searching for the nearest rock. He wouldn't stop going on about how such a _good thing_ this was, how it was the _only_ reason he had gone through the last three years of training for, how it was the only _sensible_ choice.

Not once did he mention his mother.

Finally, Eren could hold himself back no longer.

It was, upon reflection, the most civil conversation the two had ever shared. Or at least, when it started. Jean, remaining where he was sitting, calmly told Eren well-known facts as though they were newly distributed information. He always said thinks too bluntly, perhaps the only thing worth liking about him, and he used that to paint a bleak picture about humanity's chances against the Titan.

Jean concluded bleakly. "Humanity can't beat the Titans."

And Eren have agreed, maybe. If he had heard such a depressing thing five years ago.

He didn't let the following silence in the wake of Jean's tale live very long. "So what?"

Now he had them all focused on him and he decided to use this to tell them how it really was. Not how it _had_ been.

He reminded them all that hiding from the Titan threat wasn't going to make the problem disappear; he reminded them that humanity was no longer in the same position it had been five years ago, that they had advanced in terms of understanding their enemy and in defences to combat the Titans.

(Nobody said it verbally, but it was apparent that the fall of Wall Maria was the kick up the ass humanity needed in remembering how serious the Titan threat was.)

He told them his dream.

Everyone knew he wanted to kill all the Titans, and all had their different opinion on that desire, but they didn't know was that was just a bonus. Each fallen Titan would be revenge for the pain they called him and his family, each body a stepping-stone towards his real goal: To explore the outside world.

Silence settled again and this time Eren allowed it, wanting his words to sink in. Jean shattered it with a scoff. And, as the asshole quickly pointed out, no one seemed very encouraged by his words.

And- and fine. So be it.

A common misconception people made about Eren was believing that he hates anyone who chooses other than the Scouts for their division. That wasn't so. Bertholdt, Connie, Sasha and Marco had all expressed urges to join the MPs and they were all good friends. He didn't hate them for their choices; it was their own. They all had their reasons and he respected that. What he could not stand was people spitting on the choice, as if fighting the Titans was a complete waste of time, as if hundreds upon _thousands_ of people hadn't died doing so to keep the peace for the past one hundred years.

So Jean wanted to join the Military Police? Fine, fuck him, so long and farewell. He didn't need to constantly bleat about it like it was the _only_ logical choice, as if his placement somewhere other than the Scouts was something to be proud of. Besides, a defeatist like him would be bad for morale. Better to keep him as far away from the frontlines as possible.

They fought and Eren, reflecting that soon he would never see Jean ever again, resolved to make it a memorable one. One final beat-down of a constant source of annoyance. Something to remember him by.

And just when he had started to enjoy himself, Mikasa broke it up.

So, to conclude, Jean Kirstein was still a huge asshole and had ripped away any feeling of merriment Eren had been enjoying from the party. He had forced him to consider something he hadn't previously. Had deliberately forced out of his mind.

* * *

"So? Which division _are_ you gonna join?"

Outside, the sounds of the party sounding dying down as the others made their way to the dorms, Mikasa's answer came softly from behind her scarf, like a gust of wind. "The Survey Corps."

Yeah, no shock there. In retrospect, it was a pointless question to ask. Not that it made her answer any less annoying.

"You're at the top of our class, one of the best recruits in recent decades," Eren said, as calmly as he was able. It was a bit hard with jealously those facts carried. "You should go for the MPs; they'll probably give you special treatment." Mom would be thrilled either way, he knew.

"If you join the MPs, then so will I. If you join the Garrison, then so will I. You're going to join the Scouts, then so am I." She barrelled on before he had a chance to counter. "I promised your mother that I would look after you. I intend to keep that promise."

The tone of her voice told him that this wasn't a subject worth debating but when had Eren ever let that stop him before? "I don't need you to look after me anymore!" He yelled, shooting to his feet to glare down at her. The sting of her lack of faith in him was as strong as ever. "We're not kids anymore! I'm stronger than I was before, you know that! _You don't have to stick with me anymore!_ " His voice rose to echo off the empty street around them

She stared up at him with that implacable calmness, face like cut marble. Then her features shifted, slightly, so much so that only those who knew her well enough would be able to tell the difference. Her eyes dropped while her hand rose to clutch her scarf. "It's not just that promise I made," She spoke so softly that he had to strain to hear her. "I have another debt that I won't forget, ever. And-" She paused, taking a deep breath before uttering. "More than anything, I don't want to lose any more family."

Eren—really couldn't fault her for that, no matter how much he wanted to. So he said nothing, sighing roughly as he sat back down next to her.

Armin chose at that moment to appear, saving them from the suffocating silence. Before he could stop himself, Eren asked Armin the same question. Sitting next to Eren on his left, so he was sitting between his friends, Armin revealed that he intended to join the Scouts too.

"What?! Armin, that's crazy!" This time, Eren was more concerned that irritated. Everyone in the 104th knew that Armin was no fighter, among the physically weakest, but they also knew he was the smartest. Unquestionably so. Shadis had even said that Armin could become a great technician, which was some of the highest praise their Instructor had given anyone over the past three years. Eren should not have needed to remind Armin of any of these facts.

"I'm done…" Armin took a breath, saying heavily. "I'm done letting other people fight my battles for me!"

And Eren could say no more. To do so would be a waste of energy, he knew. Plus, he feared it would make him something of a hypocrite. He glanced at Mikasa, saw her staring at him, and looked away swiftly.

There was no helping it. He was stuck with them.

(He didn't subdue with the warmth that filled him.)

Together, they sat quietly. Calmly, without any need to rush or go anywhere. They were three childhood friends who had made it through the hell and survived, made it through three years of training and survived.

Together, they would offer up their hearts.

Eren looked up. The sky was clear, a blank canvas full of white glittering jewels.

He wondered, not for the first time, if _they_ were up there somewhere.

* * *

(Something else happens that night, but that too is a story all on its own.)

* * *

The next day, atop the Wall, Connie announces that he's going to join the Survey Corps.

Eren is confused because Connie had been quite determined to join the Military Police. When he vocalised this, Connie was quick to say that he didn't want to be stuck in the same division as Jean Kirstein, which is an odd thing to say as Connie's always (somehow) gotten along well with Jean.

And he's not the only one, says a bashful Thomas. Another would've been MP.

Mina remarks that his speech lite a fire in them, herself included.

Sasha too, it seemed, suddenly confident that they would regain the lands lost to the Titans. But then, this was from the same girl who seemed to think it a smart idea to steal a slab of meat from the fucking _officer's pantry_.

And yet Thomas supported her action, saying they could celebrate in anticipation of regaining Wall Maria. Once they ate the meat, all they have to do is prepare for the worst.

Everyone just stared at him like had gone mad. To eat a meal for the anticipation of something, as though the outcome was absolutely assured, was mental.

Eren could only stare at Thomas in awe, watching his face colour with embarrassment but not looking like he had lied. He- he _believed_ that humanity stood a chance—

So did Samuel, if his sudden request for some meat was anything to go by. Followed swiftly by Mina and Connie.

Eren was floored. He had said what he had said last night because it was the truth of the matter, to stop Jean from being so damn pessimistic for once. He hadn't actually intended to try and make anyone change their minds.

And yet it seemed like he had managed to convince this lot that the fight wasn't so hopeless. That humanity had the chance.

Though that could have been the hunger for the meat talking. Not that Eren intended to go without having any himself. He couldn't recall the last time he had a piece of meat as succulent as that clump looked.

He found himself smiling, staring out over the city of Trost.

 _"Five years, huh?"_

How long that was, and yet the years seemed to have gone by in a flash.

He thought about how much had changed, how far humanity had come as a collective whole.

How much _he_ had changed individually.

No more was he a child who could only shout at injustice and be shoved aside in time of horror and hardship. He was older, stronger, and now had both the tools and the knowledge to fight back against the Titans.

He was no longer that little kid, only able to watch on, in time of both horror and miracles. He was no longer someone who couldn't change anything.

He was, now, someone who could change something.

And really, there was no _could_ about. Him, Armin and Mikasa, they would be the spearhead of change that would lead humanity back into a prosperous future. They, and any other who decided that yes, the fight for humanity was a worthy one. One worth dying for.

The Titans would fall, by human hands. Wall Maria would be regained, by human hands. Humanity would regain its dignity, by its own hand.

There would be no need for any God's intervention or assistance.

 _"The world is a beautiful place."_

And yet—

 _"And is worth fighting for."_

—still—

 _"I only agree with the second part._

Turning, now facing lands that they would regain, Eren recalled those words and kindness and thought to himself. _"Yeah, me too."_

It would have been nice to see them again, one last time.

And then he was blinded.

Gold and neon green leaving bright blurs in his eyes; Eren felt great heat seethe before him. His eyes adjusted, and he was then aware of the shadow. He looked up, and his eyes met those of the Colossal.

With that, the war began.

(Or, to put it more accurately, it _resumed_ )

* * *

 **Two and half Hours Before the Fall**

"Eren."

Dad paused in the doorframe of their home, already halfway out. Half turned; he wasn't looking at any of them, his gaze dark and distant. He pulled at the line of fabric around his neck, the golden key glittering in the afternoon sun.

"When I get home, I'll show you what's in the basement. What I've been keeping secret this whole time."

* * *

 **XXX XXX**

"See you later, Eren."

* * *

 **And done!**

 **Wow, okay, this was as difficult than I expected it would be.**

 **When I planned this rewrite, one thing I knew I needed to tackle was the five years between Shingashina and Trost. It was foolish of me to overlook the changes that would occur to the characters and simply portray them as I intended in the story's present. That, and how the Guyvers would affect the AOT world as a whole. I overlooked that part mainly because I didn't take these changes seriously enough, and just wanted to jump back straight into the action.**

 **Action, I now know, without plot, makes for a bad story.**

 **Also, I now realise how much fun I denied myself back then. I'm pretty sure younger me, if he could read this, would smack me silly!**

 **Obviously, I still didn't want to focus too long on these years and didn't have to at all for some moments, so I spaced it via time jumps, focusing on key moments. Let's talk about some:**

 **1\. Carla and Grisha. Mother still alive and Daddy dearest staying around a bit longer. Well that's not right, is it? Carla will be a recurring character in this story and this chapter was sort of an apology for how flimsily I used her in the original draft. This chapter shows her growth as both a mother and a woman and yes, she will take no one's shit. You'll see.**

 **Also, I moved her away from Trost and from working as a refugee. Because I didn't want her slaving for five whole years, God knows what that would do to her and because I wanted to keep her far away from the Titans. Bit of a Deux Ex Machina, maybe, but I didn't want her to be a source of conflict or worry for Eren and Mikasa during Trost.**

 **And as for Grisha, well...**

 **2\. Levi and Erwin's cameo. I just got this crazy idea of kid Eren meeting Erwin and Levi not long after the Fall and fell in love with the idea. I wouldn't put it past Eyebrows to try and gather information from the horse's mouth before such things became too dangerous for him to do. And yes, neither man will forget this little encounter. Nor will Hanji.**

 **3\. Floch. This was honestly one of the more experimental things of the chapter. I wanted to do something different with Floch and also, I'll admit, picked him as the best means to show how the Guyvers affected the people of the Walls. Some people want something to believe in, and some take that to its extreme. And don't let his expulsion fool you, he'll be back with a bang...**

 **4\. The OVAs are canon. Oh, and Jean's mother's first name is** **Jonah. Jonah** **Kirstein, has a nice ring to it, don't you think?**

 **5\. Eren's character. This was the main point of this chapter next to world-building. Shown through his eyes alone, I wanted to portray Eren as affected by his experiences as realistically as able in a world like AOT, while not straying away from his original character. That was the biggest flaw of the old draft, how one dimensional and basic I made Eren. He was suddenly a more wholesome character who understood people and understood the Guyvers, thinking he knew better than everyone else. Here, he's very much the angry kid we know and love, still a mouthy little shit, but he isn't as wholly filled with rage as he is in canon. He's fueled by something greater than hate.**

 **And most importantly, he's as confused about the Guyvers as everyone else. He doesn't understand them, at all, but he wants to.**

 **6\. Yes, I used _that scene._ That scene only manga readers will understand. If you're curious, pick up Volume 1 of the manga and read for yourself.**

 **Anything I missed? Well, I'm sure you'll get the answers later. And I gotta say,** **I'm proud of myself that I went a whole chapter that focused more on character growth and world-building that action and drama. Score one for me!**

 **I welcome any criticisms you have, do not hold back!**

 **Oh, and fret not about the completion of the next chapter. It'll be out this Friday, Yep, you heard right. Not next Friday, not next month, but _this coming_ _Friday_. I just want to let this chapter have some space to grow.**

 **Till then, I'm signing off. Ta-ta!**


	5. Chapter Three

**Told you you only had to wait till Friday.**

 **And thus we enter that main point of the story, we enter Hell on Earth.**

 **We enter Trost!**

 **...Said me four or five years ago, thinking that dramatic. God, I was young.**

 **Though even now, there's hardly any need for me to say anything. Whether you're a manga reader or an anime enthusiast, Trost left us all without words for a while.**

 **Yet again, old viewers, expect a dramatic rewrite of this chapter.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer - I don't own Attack on Titan, it all belongs to Kodansha. I also don't own Guyver, it all belongs to Kadokawa Shoten. I only own my OCs.**

* * *

 _"Older men declare war. But it is youth that must fight and die."_ Herbert Hoover

* * *

Chapter Three: Trost

Mina Carolina had entered the Training Corps to join the Military Police.

It was, admittedly, a cowardly choice. It was well known to the general populace that the Military Police was the 'safety' branch of the Military, dealing with the issues within whatever town they were stationed at while simultaneously being kept far away from the Titans. That was a fact she knew well. Another reason came from the complete and utter fear she felt towards the Titans. Though she often was able to keep such fears from ruling her mind like so many others, it was always there, like a persistent itch at the base of her skull.

For three years she was certain she would join the Military Police, along with many of the friends she had made. She didn't mind not making Top Ten because she hadn't been striving for such a placement. She was happy for those that did though, especially Annie (Though it didn't make the sourpuss smile!). But then graduation came with much cause for cheer and celebration and with it came a speech from a certain suicidal maniac caused her to reconsider her choice.

There was a strange power to Eren Yeager. It radiated in most of his actions. When he moved, it was firm and with purpose. When he spoke, his voice rang louder than others and reached more than those others would admit. When he looked at people, with eyes as green as a forest, they burned with defiance. Eren Yeager had lived in Shiganshina, had been at the very heart of when the foundations of their world had been so thoroughly shaken. Everyone quickly learned that, despite what he had seen, Eren Yeager wasn't afraid.

He was dead set on joining the Survey Corps.

Just about everyone thought him insane.

But Mina couldn't get his words out of her mind and couldn't help but wonder if she had it wrong. If, maybe, she had decided wrong. The following day, it seemed Eren's words had a more profound effect than she thought. Now, some of the others were talking about joining the Survey Corps. Connie, Thomas, Nac and Myluis. Even Sasha suddenly seemed more confident.

Even after the Colossal Titan appeared, breaking the outer gate of Trost, Eren continued to fight. He acted when the rest of them could only stare, locked still in fear and horror. Eren hadn't seemed more alive than in that one moment.

She decided it then, as he flew upwards to battle a monster that could of potentially spell doom for them all, that she would join the Scouts. If Eren truly believed that they could do it, then she would follow him. She would follow as he lite the way through their darkened world, his fire everlasting and ever burning, and got them to that time where the world was free of the Titan.

She believed that they were going to win.

 _"The world is cruel,"_ Mikasa said once to Mina, during the first time she and Hannah had invited her to have tea with them. She had been tugging on her scarf as she did so.

She soon learned how true that statement was.

* * *

 **850**

* * *

All it took was a simple tug.

Well, ' _simple_ ' was too small a word. The tug on her cable felt as though fifty men had yanked her back. Strong things, those Titans. Her own fault, really, for getting distracted. Never let your guard down, Shadis had regularly boomed at them.

She felt the air leave her lungs as she was flung back, slamming hard into the side of a building. Her ears rang with the sound of a crack and she felt her ODM Gear punch into her lower back. As she slid down the rest of the wall before hitting the ground, a single thought ran through her mind: _"That's gonna leave a bruise. Ow."_

Her head hurt, horribly. Pain radiated from the back of her skull as if she had been struck with a white-hot poker. Her vision blurred and danced with spots and her ears rang with an obnoxious ringing. She felt the ground rumble rhythmically, like a giant drum beat.

She tried to move her head but her body felt heavy and unresponsive. A great, dark shadow loomed over her. Through darkened eyes, she saw a figure towering a few feet away. Or was it two? It was hard to tell.

Ah, so it was time.

Peculiarly, she didn't feel fear. She was too tired for it. All she felt was disappointment.

She had tried. She really had.

And it was all for nought.

Before her eyes flashed memories, moments of her life:

 _Meeting Annie for the first time and deciding at that moment the short, cold girl was her friend._

 _Walking the streets of Karanes with her mother, taking in the familiar sights._

 _Flying through the forest with the ODM Gear, feeling something akin to total freedom._

 _Eren's blazing eyes, eyes full of hope, telling them all that the future was still worth fighting for._

 _Instructor Shadis barking in her face, her ears ringing at his booming voice._

 _Her, Eren, Connie, Thomas, Nac and Milieus staring in mute disbelief together as Sasha revealed a thick club of stolen meat._

Not necessarily in the right order, but that didn't matter. It had been a good life, Mina decided tiredly.

Good enough.

Through the darkness clouding her vision, she saw the giant hand (hands?) reach out for her—

 ** _CRASH!_**

There was enough sense left in Mina's head to register the noise and feel the great gush of wind wash over her, just like the great cloud of steam the Colossal had done to them not even a full hour ago. Her eyes had snapped opened, pain and exhaustion forgotten in a single second before ducking her head to the wave. When her pigtails finally stopped flailing beside her cheeks, she found herself looking up-

Pain stabbed through her skull immediately and she cried out, eyes slamming shut. The agony that resonated from the back of her skull was quick to remind her of its existence and only then was she aware of the moisture creeping down the back of her neck from the epicentre of her pain. Oh, that couldn't be a good sign.

She opened her eyes again, desperate to see what had happened, but her vision was still foggy and her ears were ringing again. A dark, human-sized shape came towards her. She couldn't be sure if it was one person or two, her vision unreliable. Her body sagged and her head dropped with relief. Help at last.

A voice spoke to her but it cut in and out through the ringing in her ears. "Hey- okay?" Warm hands fell onto her shoulders. "Can- hear me?" Mina looked up and saw redness spread over her gaze. Oh lord, was blood leaking into her eyes? She tried to speak but her tongue felt fat and useless inside her mouth. The hands left her shoulders and touched the side of her head, tilting it forward. Then she felt pressure on the back of her skull and hissed as pain flared through her like a bullet of pure, molten heat. "Oh- bad- serious- wait-" The hands pulled away but she felt them hover near the source of her pain. "Hold still-

A curious sensation filled Mina Carolina's head. Like a million flies buzzed about inside her skull, their wings brushing and leaving an irritable itch. Gradually, she was reminded of her body, the length of her arms to her fingers and her legs to her toes. The muscles under her skin, a testament to three years of training. She found the strength to clench her hands to fists, feeling the muscles in the length of her arms tense. Her body was still fully functional. Every individual cell in her body felt warm and numb all at once. The sensation continued and Mina felt as though she was being stretched to the seams of herself, to the point where she would _break_ -

And then the world snapped back into placed and she jerked with a massive inhale, leaning to onside as she retched this morning's breakfast. The sensation was gone along with all her pain. She felt completely fine. Spitting, stomach empty, she saw her saviour pull away to stand over her out of the corner of her eye.

She turned to thank them, only for the words to die on her tongue.

Not too far from them, the singular Titan that would have been her death laid dead in the street. A good seven meters away from its dissolving body was its head, blood painting the ground between the parts. Steam rose into the air like a thick sheet of fog.

But Mina's attention was fully taken by the being standing before her, its body an impossible fusion of metal and flesh. The metal was sapphire blue and the flesh between it was stark white. A horn stretched out backwards from the crown of its head and the eyes were glowing red. The metal orb on its forehead glowed with power before dimming. It was a creature that inspired fear as well as disbelieving awe. She knew what it was, had heard the stories, had heard the eyewitness account from Eren himself, but to think that one of _them_ would be _standing_ before her-

"Are you okay?" The White Guardian asked in a very human voice, a voice distorted and laced with concern.

The words made Mina flinch and she opened and closed her mouth like a fish out of water. Her mind drew a complete blank.

Then the world shuddered and they turned sharply to see a Titan stomping towards them. With a surge of terror flooding her mind, Mina remembered the Titans, Trost and her comrades. She shot upwards to her feet but her legs might as well of been jelly and she tumbled forward. Into the Guardian's arms.

Before she could pull away and apologies, the Guardian curled an arm around her waist and brought her close to his chest before kicking off the ground. They flew upwards into the air, the ground shrinking beneath them. Mina screamed in shock and screwed her eyes shut, waiting for them to plummet to the ground. But they never did. Daring to open one eye, they became as wide as dinner plates when she saw that they were _hovering_ in midair. Below them, dust was kicked up as the Titan swung a fist down where they had been standing.

Mina looked to the armoured being, wordless, noting idly how the orb in his waist was glowing. It didn't occur to her that she was clutching to him for dear life. "Sorry about that." Said the Guardian, sounding a touch sheepish. "But it was bearing down on us and I acted on instinct."

Mina wondered why the Guardian thought that he needed to apologise to her, let along speak to her.

A piercing wail of despair cut through the air and dashed away all of Mina's thoughts, a cold stone settling into her stomach. "Armin!"

"Armin?" The White Guardian muttered but she barely noticed, eyes scanning for the blonde boy.

She found him, kneeling on the building where she and the others had left him, arm stretched outwards as if to grasp something. Before him was a Titan with a white beard stained red. Mina didn't need to guess what with. She stabbed a finger at him. "There!" She shouted.

"Hold on!" The Guardian reared back and then they were moving, so suddenly and so fast that Mina cried out again. Wind washed over her like water, giving the sweat that had accumulated on her body an icy bite against her skin. She felt her ears pop and had her eyes closed while clenching her mouth shut. She tried to squint to see what was happening, but the air hurt her eyes. Over the roaring in her ears, she heard someone say, "Gotcha!"

Then the roaring faded and she felt solid ground beneath her feet. There was gentle movement, the sound of heavy feet on titles. Mina didn't dare open her eyes, trembling. Then, a distorted voice said gently. "You can open your eyes now."

They snapped open and Mina realised that she was still clinging to the White Guardian, fingertips pressing into the ridges of the unnatural armour to secure her grip. She was close enough to see her reflection in his metal chest. Flushing red with embarrassment, she jumped away and took in their surroundings to make herself look busy. They were far from the area they had been previously, perhaps a block to two away. It was hard to tell. Everything looked different from the rooftops. There were no Titans in the area, giving Mina a massive feeling of relief.

"Flight." Mina jumped and spun to face the Guardian, who watched her with unblinking crimson eyes. "We flew from one area to the next."

Mina nodded dumbly, not trusting herself to speak. She still wasn't sure if she was _meant_ to speak to him at all. A slight breeze reminded her of the moisture that had been creeping down the back of her neck and she blankly ran a hand across her scalp. Across where the pain had been. Her hand came away sticky with drying blood. She stared at it.

"You had a serious head wound," The White Guardian's metallic voice drew Mina's eyes away from her dirty hand, to meet his fathomless ones. "You're lucky I found you when you did. Even if the Titans hadn't gotten to you…" He trailed off but Mina didn't need him to say anything else.

She had been at death's door, and he had yanked her back before she went through.

He had saved her.

The Guardian gave a small noise that might have been a hum before turning his crimson stare away from her. "Now then, let's see about your friend here."

Mina followed his gaze and saw with a jolt of shock that he was talking about Armin. She quickly realised that he must have picked him up while they flew, taking them both away from danger. The blonde boy was a few short steps away on his knees, looking physically fine. There was not a scratch on him. Except—

 _"His face…"_ Armin's sky blue eyes had become completely glazed over with terror; they were staring straight at her but she couldn't tell whether he was seeing her or not. There was no colour of emotion to his countenance, not even as the White Guardian stepped towards him.

He was probably still in shock after witnessing Eren's broken, bloodied from splayed out on the titles. Mina grimaced, remembering the stab of horrible disbelief she felt when she saw it happen. Their unbeatable, unyielding suicidal fool had gotten exactly what they all said would happen but never truly believed would happen.

She didn't know what to say or how to help him. Mylius was there go-to medical guy.

But Mylius was dead.

So was Nac, Thomas and Eren.

Her stomach plummeted suddenly, in a way that had nothing to do with the situation steadily growing worst around them. They were gone. Her friends, dead. She had pushed the thoughts out of her mind in the wake of the White Guardian's appearance, so sudden and unexpected that how could she not be in awe of this being of legend standing before her, talking to her and saving her life. Even when she stared at Armin and thought of Eren, she had been so focused on the task at hand of trying to help him that she never stopped to consider what happened to necessitate that help.

A wave of grief and panic washed over her, numbing her body to the core and stripping her of the remaining energy she had left. All of them, her friends and comrades. Nearly her entire whole Squad wiped out. It had all happened so fast, so quickly she could hardly grasp it. Now her mind made the logical connections and she knew whatever was left of her friends lay either dead in the streets or dissolving inside the gullet of a Titan. Morbidly, her mind birthed the thought that Eren could have more than likely died of blood loss before the Titans had gotten to him.

Then her mind put forth that bearded Titan from before, its white beard stained with blood, and suddenly Armin's scream made too much sense.

Everything about who they were, everything that had made her friends so brilliant, who they were on the pathway to _becoming_ , had died with them. Hadn't they all promised on joining the Survey Corps together? Hadn't Eren been so sure that they could win?

Mina fell to her knees and only her hands stopped her face from colliding with the titles of the roof. She heaved whatever was left inside her stomach and something green and foul-smelling left her lips. Perhaps her lungs were constricted, or her throat was swollen from all the screaming she had done, but she suddenly wasn't able to draw in enough air.

"Hey!" She heard the Guardian's distorted voice rise to a shout and felt him stand before her again. He almost sounded alarmed but no, surely not. Not him and not for her. "What's the matter? Are you-?"

"My friends." The words left Mina like white-hot iron, leaving a burning path from her throat to her lips.

"...I'm sorry." The words were heavy with emotion.

"They're _dead_." There came the tears, rolling down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry."

"It's not fair!" She barked, fury suddenly licking her insides like tongues of fire.

"I'm sorry."

"IT'S NOT FAIR!" Mina roared and she was on her feet and lunging at the Guardian, hands reaching for his throat. She had to hurt something. Something, _anything_. Even a being who was said to have fought toe to toe with the Armoured Titan. The distance between them closed instantly but hands shot up and closed on her arms, steely fingers coiling around her biceps and stopping her short. She struggled like a rabid, deranged animal but was locked in place. There was, though, enough freedom in her lower arms to beat the Guardian's blue chest with her fists.

To an observer, it would of look like a child beating an adult's chest.

Mina cried, howled, and screamed, cursed and spat profanities that would have made even the taciturn Annie blush. All her grief and rage against this cruelty the world had dumped onto her, stealing away her friends when they had never been so powerful together, poured out towards the White Guardian. She wanted him to react, to shout or strike her or do _something_ , anything rather than just standing so still and silent without a flicker of emotion.

He didn't do anything.

And ultimately, when her eyes had wrung as many tears as they could and her throat was raw and scratchy, Mina felt something akin to peace fall over her. Sapped of strength, she didn't resist as the Guardian lowered her to her knees. Gently, as if she would shatter. She no longer felt angry or sad as he released his iron hold on her biceps, kneeling before her. She just felt a hollow, ringing emptiness.

"It's not fair…" She whispered, staring at her hands as they laid despondently on her knees. The skin of her knuckles was split and raw, and the sides of her hands stung painfully where she had rained childish blows on him. Pain throbbed in dull beats along with her heart. The Guardian didn't have a lick of damage. Why did she expect any different?

"Death is never fair." The White Guardian uttered, distorted voice soft and gentle. "It takes all and leaves nothing but ruin." He reached out and took her hands in his own. His palms were warm, the flesh rough and leathery. His voice hardened a touch. "But you are _alive_. And as long as you live, you'll friends will live on through you. In memory."

When he took his hands away, Mina found that the pain was gone. The split skin remained and in time, she knew, would heal over. She looked at them and saw that her hands were trembling. _"In memory."_ She thought, the words carrying a bitter sting with them.

She didn't want them to live on through memory. She wanted them here, now, by her side. She clenched her hands to fists, trying to steady them. It wasn't working.

"Now, please excuse me. I must check on your friend." The Guardian stood up and moved away; his words jolting Mina out of her reverie. She remembered then that there was one friend who was still by her side.

Except—

She turned to face Armin as the Guardian walked over to him. He hadn't reacted at all to her outburst. He still didn't react to the White Guardian. He just looked ahead. Passed them, beyond them. There was nothing behind his eyes, not a hint of life. And that, perhaps more than anything that had happened so far, frightened Mina the most. He'd been through too much. He'd given up.

How much more could she take before she did the same?

* * *

 _"How pathetic. How am I supposed to kill them if I can't stand up straight?"_

 _Armin suppressed a sigh as Eren continued to mope. The bandages around his head made for a sight that he would rather not see on his friend, but he took comfort in knowing that there was no serious danger from his injury._

 _Armin's heart went out for Eren. Joining the Survey Corps had been his dream for as long as Armin had known him and already he was facing challenges._

 _It was almost ironic, Armin thought. If he listened hard enough, many of the others whispered the same thing amongst themselves. Eren had, without a doubt, the most drive to become a soldier, yet the tools he was meant to wield rebelled against him. If Eren couldn't master the usage of the ODM Gear, Instructor Shadis would send him packing._

 _Perhaps Aunt Carla had been praying recently._

 _Armin felt a swell of sadness fill him at the thought of the woman, picturing her in the home Doctor Yeager had acquired shortly before they had left for Training. He hated the idea of her worrying herself over them, hated the idea of burdening her after she had so gallantly taken him into her care after his Grandfather's death._

 _It had become a shock to them all, to Eren the most, when Aunt Carla had sat them all down one evening and told them, in no uncertain terms, that she hated the idea of them joining the military but admitted that it wasn't her choice to make. Looking as though it pained her to say the words, Aunt Carla granted them their freedom to join._

 _(Doctor Yeager, Armin had noticed, looked pained himself but he had been staring at his wife. There was a touch of guilt there, too.)_

 _It had been quite a while since then, Armin thought. Almost three years now, he realised. Yet he could remember it as though it were yesterday._

 _He remembered their departure, little over a week and a bit ago: Aunt Carla had embraced them all, voice wet with tears as she wished them all her luck and love. Armin had promised he would write to her, to make sure she knew how they were and wouldn't worry. Eren had hugged her the longest, Mikasa had remained stone-faced (though Armin heard her voice waver slightly when she said goodbye) and Armin had adamantly tried to keep himself from outright sobbing. He failed._

 _Because Armin had felt, in Aunt Carla's warm arms, the feeling a child must feel in the arms of their mother. Safety, contentment and love. They were feelings he often felt with her, ones he kept close to his heart._

 _A sting of anger and jealousy pricked him, all directed at Eren. Couldn't he understand what he was doing was hurting his mother? Hadn't he finally realised how important she was? How could he throw away something Armin had lost so very long ago?_

 _And almost immediately, Armin felt a swell of shame._

 _"It might be time to let that dream die."_

 _"Huh?!"_

"Oh no." _Armin suppressed the urge to groan in dismay._

 _"I think you should give up this attempt to be a soldier," Mikasa said, voice so soft it was almost inaudible over the chatter of the other cadets. But Armin knew that Eren heard her as plainly as if she were shouting. "If you're not cut out for it, then why persist in hurting yourself? All you'd do is end up dying in vain, and all your efforts would be for nothing."_

 _Shadis had said very early on that death was a very real possibility during training. No one had died so far, thank goodness, but it was a disquieting thought that Armin kept in the back of his head._

 _"_ _How can you-?" Eren stared at her in some kind of disbelieving anger before he finally found his voice, eyes narrowing into a glare. "After_ everything _we saw that day, after what almost happened to_ Mom _, you're crazy if you think I'm gonna change my mind!"_

 _Armin quickly looked around them, hoping no one heard the rise in Eren's voice. Nobody seemed to have noticed. Relieved, he focused back on his friends._

 _They stared at each other, silently, his green against her grey. A mute battle. With Armin stuck in the middle, only able to watch. As always, he reflected bitterly._

 _After a tense moment, Mikasa looked back down at her bowl of gruel. "I get it. But your resolve has nothing to do with it."_

 _At that, Eren faltered. "Wh- what do you mean?"_

 _She looked him dead in the eye. "Whether or not you're fit to be a soldier…isn't up to you."_

 _The comment struck. Armin watched as Eren flinch before his body locked rigid, facing down at his own bowl. Pointedly refusing to look at either of them._

 _Silence fell over them like a blanket and Armin hoped that would be the end of it. Thinking too much over the problem was only going to make Eren more agitated. But then, until he overcame it, he was going to be in quite the mood._

 _Then softly, a touch hesitantly, Mikasa added: "And even if you_ do _become a soldier, it won't make you like-"_

 ** _BAM!_**

 _Slamming his hands down onto the table so hard all their bowls shuddered, shooting to his feet, Eren's voice rose into a livid snarl._ "SHUT UP!" _He glowered down at Mikasa, face contorted, emerald eyes filled with blistering anger._

 _This time, it would have been impossible for anyone not to notice. Armin became painfully aware of how the chatting of the others had died and of all the eyes were on them. Reiner and Jean, Marco and Annie. A redhead whom Armin had noticed early on. All of them. A hot flush came to Armin's cheeks when he noticed how some flickered their gazes between Eren and himself as if expecting him to produce an answer. He was getting that look a lot lately. Quietly, desperately, he hissed. "Eren!"_

 _Eren inhaled sharply and looked at him. It often amazed Armin how Eren would listen to him at odd times. He wished that Eren would listen to him more often, in those crucial matters like when not to fight, rather than in the simpler moments like this. Then, lips curling into a bitter grimace, Eren stormed away._

 _Armin remained, knowing better than to follow his friend when he was like that. Better to let him flare until the anger gutted out. Plus, he didn't much like the idea of leaving Mikasa alone, regardless of what she'd say. At that moment, she looked small and sad. They finished their meal in silence._

 _Later that night in the barracks, unable to fall asleep, Armin whispered. "Eren, are you awake?"_

 _A pointless question. Eren's breathing told him he was wide-awake. "Yeah." He muttered shortly._

 _Armin thought over what to say. There was so much he could say, he knew, about the issue that was steadily growing between the three of them. Unsaid yet so glaringly apparent. But what words would reach Eren and not spark his rage? It was late and Armin's mind wanted to rest. Perhaps a direct approach, like how Mikasa would do, would work._

 _"She right, you know."_

 _"Armin-"_

 _"You're never going to be like them, Eren. You know that. They were beyond anything-"_

 _"I know, Armin…"_

 _Armin frowned. "Then why-"_

 _"Because she doesn't understand, even though she should."_

 _There was strange kind of sadness in the words that caused Armin's frown to deepen and-_ "Wake up."

 _Click_

Armin took in a sharp, sudden breath. The hand before his face, a curious mix of blue and white, pulled away. As did the hand that had rested atop of his skull. He closed his eyes, rolled them within his lids for they were sore and felt as dry as dust. How long had he kept them opening without blinking? Rubbing them, he tried to remember what he had kept his mind so preoccupied.

And then he did.

He remembered.

A million things flying into perfect focus for the span of a second yet seem to last an eternity:

-Thomas handing outside the jaw of an Abnormal, expression terrified -

-Eren, drunk on despair and fury, chasing for vengeance-

- _"Oh Sina, his leg his leg_ it's gone! _"_ -

-Mylius disappearing in a splatter of red-

-Mina smacking into the side of a building-

-Nac screaming and screaming as a Titan bit into his side, splitting his abdomen open-

-Unable to move, numb to his core-

-The Titan's mouth is moist and smells _awful_ -

-Screaming at the top of his lungs-

- _Falling falling falling_ -

-Eren, face streaked with blood, face curled with effort-

-Flying, crashing onto the roof. "Eren!"-

-He's holding the jaws _open_ -

-"Armin, listen. We're still going…to the outside world. The things you told me about- I have to see them. _I have to._ "-

-His hand is stretched out; his eyes are wide and beseeching-

- _"I don't want to die,"_ Those eyes say-

-"EREN, _NO!_ "-

-The jaws slam shut-

- _GULP_ -

Despair had swallowed him whole then; it returned now to sink its teeth back into him.

Armin distantly became aware that someone was screaming. Screaming so loudly and so much that their voice was fast turning hoarse. That someone was also shouting words, vehemently cursing someone's existence. Was it him? It must have been because his throat was sore, his eyes were leaking and Armin was quite certain that he hated no other human being greater than himself.

His hands were in his hair, trying desperately to tear his scalp from his skull. Physical pain would be a nice distraction from the mental agony that was splitting his skull apart. It was proving a futile act so far. Armin wondered if he should plunge one of his blades into his stomach instead.

He was no longer a person, just a tornado of despair and anger. And yet with the chaos echoing inside his head, he was coherent enough to know it was all directed at himself. He had done it. He had finally caused what he always knew he would bring about. His weakness, his inability to do _anything_ , had taken the life of his best friend.

Eren was gone.

So was Thomas, Nac, Mylius and Mina.

All dead because he was weak. All gone because of his failings.

He had let them down. He had let them all down. But, worst of all, he'd let himself down.

Armin remembered a promise he had made for himself, not too long before he and the others started training. A vow to become as strong as his friends. To stand shoulder to shoulder with them. His friends, who were brave and strong despite the hell they lived in, people for whom courage had been second nature, as easy as breathing or eating.

But for Armin, in the end, it had proven to be a complete impossibility.

He always knew he lacked courage, always crumbled before the bullies only to be saved by Eren and Mikasa, but it had never been made as clear to him as it did now. In the face of danger, of horror and death, he had allowed himself to succumb to fear when his duty should have been the most important thing on his mind. He had been terrified. He was still terrified. He feared the Titans as strongly as he had five years ago, had feared what they would unquestionably do to him and feared for his friends. He hadn't even been able to save his own pathetic self.

By some miracle, he had survived, but to what end? He would have to live with the knowledge that he had proved himself nothing more than a coward, a quivering little boy unable to cope with anything but his own dreams. That his greatest fear had become a reality: His friend, his _best_ friend, had died trying to save him.

In the end, all his efforts had amounted to nothing. It would have been better if he had just died.

Yes, he thought with sudden clarity. He should just die.

A slice down the length of his forearm would do-

Someone was speaking to him. Their hands were on his shoulders, shaking him insistently. "Armin! _Armin!_ Please, look at me!"

The voice was not unlike the blades they carried, cutting through the chaos in his head as easily as cutting the nape of a Titan dummy. Armin blinked and his eyes focused on the person before him. He took in their details.

Raven black hair tied into pigtails. Obsidian eyes. Gentle hands. A pleasant, soft face. Someone many others, himself included, found cute and easily likeable.

She looked like Mina Carolina.

But Mina was dead.

Wait; there was one reason for this impossibility: "Am I dead?"

Armin found himself hoping that would be the case. Morbid though it was, he suddenly found a great yearning for whatever laid beyond this mortal coil, if such a thing existed. He wouldn't have to deal with this Hell they called reality anymore. He wouldn't have to see any more of his friends die like he had Eren and Thomas. He wouldn't have to face Mikasa or Aunt Carla and be the one to tell them about Eren's fate-

Arms pulled him into a firm hug. A soft voice, filled with equal amounts of pain and relief, said by his ear. "No, Armin, no. You're _alive_. _We're_ alive. Alive…" Then Mina started sobbing into his shoulder.

Through the hug, Armin felt the warmth of her body. Felt the wetness of her tears tingle his shoulder. Felt the flutter of her heartbeat from her chest against his.

Alive.

She was alive.

Mina was alive!

As he wrapped his arms around her in desperation, clinging to her as though she were the only thing keeping him away from the chaos in his skull, Armin began to cry again. Great, heaving sobs of relief and guilt. Amidst his cries, he begged for her forgiveness, hoping beyond hope that she didn't hate him for the deaths of the others even though it was the only thing he deserved.

He couldn't understand her response but that was alright. They were both blubbering, probably both incoherent. That's okay. He just needed to feel her whilst he reaffirmed his worth. To decide if he was even worth living when Eren had so selflessly sacrificed his.

"It is you."

Armin flinched as the distorted yet instantly familiar voice cut through the air, through the bristling madness in his head. He flinched because his world had telescoped to just been him and Mina. Two saviours of a catastrophe. He went rigid when his mind instantly put forth a face to the voice. Shock was replaced with disbelief because no, that couldn't be possible. There was _no way_ -

Pulling ever so slightly away from Mina's shoulder, face dirty with tears and snot, Armin stared at the figure who stood still and silent a few paces away. He was exactly as Armin remembered him: a creature with a body covered in sapphire armour with white flesh in-between. The eyes were the same burning red, the same eyes that were spoken of by some of the older, more superstitious members of the staff of the Training Corps to rowdy cadets.

 _"Be wary of your actions and honour your code, least the glare of the Guardians is cast upon you."_

He remembered the name too. Others knew of it also but, due to not knowing what the word meant, they had become widely known as the White and Black Guardians. But Armin had been there, right before them as they proclaimed their names for all to hear.

It fell numbly from his lips: "Guyver…Yin."

Yin rose an arm, pointing at the blonde. "I remember you. You're Eren's friend. Armin, right?"

Though Eren's name sent a painful jolt through him, it was largely numbed by the amazement that the armoured actually _remembered_ him and Eren. His heart ached sharply at that. Eren would have been over the moon. "Yes." He answered, nodding his head needlessly.

"That's impossible," Yin said, voice suddenly harsh with disbelief. "That boy was a child when I last saw him. On an evacuation boat leaving Shiganshina." Yin then turned away, looking at the Wall several blocks away. "Have they made it yet, by the way?"

"What?" Armin asked dumbly, staring at the Guyver. Mina, who had more or less collected herself, pulled away from him to stare too.

"That boats. I know they had a while to go, and me and my brother cheated the journey a bit with our powers, but given the time, I'd imagine they'd of made it by now."

Armin continued to start; a cold feeling dropped into his stomach. "What are you- I mean- W-when exactly do you think this is?"

Yin looked back at him but didn't answer immediately. "The next day? Again, I'm just basing that on the time of the day. If it is, though, I'm baffled by how quickly the Titans have travelled. And I'm willing to assume that big skinless one appeared again too, yes? That's how they're inside the city, right? Another hole, no doubt." Yin looked around the area briefly. "Where _is_ here, if you don't mind me asking? Me and my brother didn't stick around too long last time we were here."

Armin's expression morphed with horror, the cold feeling in his stomach spreading throughout his entire body. "I-" He couldn't wrap his head around what the Guardian was saying, couldn't comprehend—

"It's been _five years_ since Shiganshina was breached." Armin jumped when Mina spoke, looking to see that she was staring at the Guyver with an expression that might have mirrored his own.

"What?!" Yin's face didn't shift an iota, but his whole body flinched as if struck. His voice became a sharp, near breathless exhale. "No, that's- That can't be right, I-" He broke off abruptly, looking around the area again. His movements suggested urgency, perhaps even worry. "Five _years_ …?"

Armin found himself doing the same, finally taking into account where they were. Nothing looked the same from the rooftops but he could tell that they were a good few blocks off from where Eren-

—From where everything when wrong.

There were no Titans in sight, thank God, but how long that would remain was very uncertain. Armin found himself caught between the urge to flee and the urge to simply stop and collect his fractured mind.

"Okay," Yin said in a clipped voice. Armin watched him as he stood there, head slightly lowered to the ground, hands flexing open and close. "Okay." He watched as the Guyver's form heaved with a deep, metallic inhale. "Okay." Yin turned sharply to face Armin, causing the boy to flinch as the red eyes bored into him. "Right then, kiddos. I've got some questions that need answering."

"Questions?" Armin couldn't think of a poorer time for such things but knew it was pointless to voice such thoughts. If the White Guardian was anything like he was five years ago, then any Titans that came into their vicinity would be swiftly and easily dealt with. It would be a moot point to worry. The blue and white entity swiftly closed the distance between them, stopped before dropping to sit on crossed legs in front of them. Armin and Mina had to crane their heads to meet the impassive stare.

"That's right. See, there a few things I need to know before I decide what to do. Knowledge is power, as they say, and I need it now. So, Question Number One:"

What Yin asked promptly floored Armin.

"What _exactly_ are the Titans?"

* * *

Mikasa Ackerman was in a foul mood.

One so bad that she couldn't take any pride in her first Titan kill.

Anyone normal would have ecstatic, she knew.

She had never been normal. She knew this also.

Her forehead throbbed.

As she stood upon the corpse of her first kill Titan, the events leading to that moment played before her eyes.

Her squad had chased after it as it made a mad rush towards Trost's outer gate, where the civilians were _still_ in the process of evacuation. She had acted when her superiors wasted time deliberating amongst herself and did as she had been trained to do for the past three years. The ODM Gear had propelled her forward; her cables found purchase in its shoulder, the monster not noticing at all. Her mark clear, the cables stretched tautly, the distance between them then closed and she struck. The Titan died instantly. Legs falling under it, its body crashed to the ground before skidding to a halt. She landed on its head smoothly, unharmed.

Unharmed but still discontent.

Her forehead throbbed painfully.

Falling back into the present, she assessed herself. No casualties for either her comrades or civilians and no injuries on herself. A fine job. Upon close inspection of her weapons, however, she found that her strike had blunted her blades. Both of them. In one attack.

She berated herself quietly. A needless waste of resources. She had to conserve her blades. Once they were out, they were out. She made a mental note to lessen her striking power next time.

And then Mikasa took notice of the ridiculously large crowd of people before and she froze in horrified disbelief. Stuck in the inner gate was a carrier that looked stacked to the brim with supplies.

She had thought the evacuation was going slowly.

Finding her voice, she addressed the crowd. "Excuse me, what is all this?"

Standing by the carrier was a short, stout man in a brown suit. He must have been one of the suppliers of the town. Anyone with a suit of higher quality than the people around them had to be of high standings. By his side were two men. "Couldn't have asked for better timing!" He barked to her; voice mangled with irritation and relief. "Force these useless morons to move my wagon! I'll pay you handsomely!"

— _This_ was why the evacuation was taking so long?

"Soldiers are dying back there. Laying down their lives for you. Because this is taking too long." The words left her mouth thickly, numbly as she pointed to the devastation behind her with a blade.

The man was unmoved. "Yeah, that's their job! You expect me to shed a tear because they're fulfilling their duty?! They're supposed to be willing to lay down their lives!" He glowered at her with undisguised malice, stabbing a finger at her. "Don't get all high and mighty on me now that you've _finally_ gotten _useful_ for the first time in a hundred years!"

He-

He was serious.

He would lose no sleep if soldiers died protecting them, only so long if he could get the carrier through the gate. The lives of the men, women and children around him be damned. The lives of her comrades be damned. The lives of her _friends_ be damned. Eren-

 _"Eren."_

Mikasa found herself thinking of Eren, how she had tried desperately to not be placed into the Rear Guard. Special orders, they said. She hadn't cared. She had wanted to stay with Eren. To keep him safe. And he had denied her that.

Her forehead throbbed painfully, echoing the connection Eren had given their skulls.

He had never hurt her physically before. It had been in a moment of anger when the others had been in a panicked rush. When she, according to him, had lost sight of her priorities. He was right, of course, but for him to do that-

 _"Just promise me one thing."_ She had asked him, just barely keeping her voice levelled. _"Whatever happens, don't- don't get yourself killed."_

All she could see was his face, looking at her as though she were stupid, before yanking himself free of her hold on him and walking away without a glance back. Without a word of acknowledgement, luck or endearment.

If he had only given her an answer, _something_ , then-!

Mikasa killed the train of thought dead, as swiftly and as effectively as she had the Titan. Her face lost all emotion and became as cold and flat as stone. Her eyes focused on the man and she knew then what she had to do. Moving off the Titan's dissolving skull, she landing easily on her feet. The people parted as she moved because a soldier with their blades drawn was a dangerous soldier.

"Yeah, no arguing with that. You're absolutely right, _sir_." She spat the word with obvious contempt. A plan unfolded in her mind and she followed, making sure each step was strong and each word rang clear. "That's the greater good, I guess. But sometimes it's not the life or the death of a _soldier_ -" A slight slip, the word leaving like a snarl, "-that makes the biggest difference."

The stout man didn't react with fear. If anything, he seemed to puff up with anger. His glower intensified and his two cronies came to stand before him at his sides, ready to act on his command. "Don't you even _dare_ -!"

 ** _CRASH!_**

The carrier exploded, sending chunks of wood, cloth, and what appeared to be food flying. A shockwave of compressed air sent the stout man and his men surging forward off their feet and shoved against Mikasa, destroying the plan in the mind as she threw her arms before her face and dug her heels into the ground to secure herself. Distantly, admits the sound of wood pieces falling back to the world, she heard the civilians cry out in alarm and the man swearing.

Removing her arms from her face and securing her hold of the handles of her blades as she brought them to her sides, Mikasa stared into the dust cloud that hovered over the wrecked carrier. People were huddled together in fear and the man was a few feet to her right, muttering profanities as he rubbed his head before rolling onto his back. He stared into the cloud with horror, most likely mourning his carrier.

Mikasa had no energy to spare on him, a cold blade of panic sliding between her ribs. It had happened so quickly and without warning, but her eyes had just caught what seemed to be a black shape falling out of the sky. A Titan? An Abnormal, perhaps? Sizes of Titans varied, after all.

No, that couldn't be right. Her squad would have noticed and given warning. So how-?

Two piercing eyes, red as blood, slashed through the dust cloud like knives through flesh.

Mikasa went very still, eyes blown wide, feeling as though she had been doused in ice water.

Walking through the cloud with heavy footsteps, a being of legend came into view that silenced the worried murmurings of the crowd. Known by many as the fable Black Guardian, brother of the White Guardian. Many claimed that he was the opposite of his brother, most contributing this claim to their appearance. His was a body of crimson red armour and pitch-black flesh, an almost insect-like head with a horn and a metal orb in the forehead that glowed.

He was exactly as she remembered. And she remembered his name too, the name he had given back in Shiganshina.

"I think I've seen enough." Guyver Yang's voice cut through the silence. People gasped and whispered amongst themselves, perhaps only now convinced that he was real and not a phantom brought about by their terror. Perhaps some had never thought him real at all.

Yang's fathomless eyes fell on the man, who stared back at the Guardian with mute terror. He didn't move a muscle. Slowly, Yang stepped towards the supplier until he was standing directly over, legs spread with feet planted at the sides of his stomach.

Yang's head was lowered to the point where his chin was tucked into his neck. "Loathed as I am to say it, I can understand you not shedding a tear for a soldier. Why bother, right? But." His voice hardened. "You were willing to put that _shit_ -" He threw a thumb over his shoulder, at the shattered wagon, "-before the lives of other people. That makes you scum. And I don't let scum live."

Beads of sweat were rolling down the stout man's face. Not once had he looked away from the crimson gaze, not once had he _blinked_. Perhaps he had been too afraid to. Mikasa noticed that, though ruffled but unharmed, his men didn't dare rush to his aid. "Y-you- You can't be real…" He said, voice a dry croak.

Yang tilted his head like a cat regarding a mouse. Then his body fell, waist twisting, and his left knee dropped onto the man's face. There was a loud, nasty, wet splitting sound. His body jerked and tensed for a moment before becoming as slack as a puppet with its strings cut. Then Yang stood up and everyone saw what was left.

Some people gasped and cried out in shock and horror, mothers covering their children's eyes while men became hard-faced. Mikasa felt ice in her stomach, her eyes unconsciously taking in the details of the gory sight. How the man's lower jaw was still intact while everything above resembled crushed fruit. Crimson spread out.

"Did _that_ feel real?" Yang asked the corpse. There was no response. He turned, people cringing and whimpering when his burning gaze washed over him. Mikasa made no sound, every muscle in her body tense and ready to strike.

Yang paid her no heed as he focused on the carrier, its skeletal remains. He then inhaled, a gurgling metal sound, and then exhaled forcefully. The air shimmered and waved and what was left of the carrier fell apart into a cloud of ashes. A gust of wind blew it away. The inner gate was clear and free. Yang looked around at the crowd, none of them moving. Mikasa noticed how they were staring at him in silent, clear awe, still as statues.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" He asked once the moment stretched into seconds, irritation clear in his voice. Stabbing a finger at the gate, his sharp bark broke the civilians out of their trance. " _Get going!_ "

People flinched, remembered the situation at hand, and begun moving. Some were quicker than others, running to the sanctuary the other side of the Walls offered. Others were slower, unable to look away from the Guardian or the dead body. The stout man's bodyguards shared a look, concluded, and quietly melted into the leaving crowd. Yang didn't look at any of them, old or young, his gaze fallen back to his victim's corpse. Mikasa watched him.

Had he felt anything when he killed the man? Had there been any doubt before he committed the act? Had it felt anything at all for him than it had been for her or Eren? She couldn't help but wonder these things. His thoughts were unreadable. He remained, as he had for the past five years, a mystery, standing there in the dwindling sunlight.

Then he was moving forward, towards her and her body locked with tension again and even though her blades were dull, they should be enough-

He walked past her without a word, without a glance. As if she wasn't there at all.

Mikasa turned to watch him go, a lone crimson figure amidst an empty street. The corpse of her first kill was almost completely gone. She lessened her hold on her blade handles so that blood returned to her bleached white knuckles. He must not have recognised her. Perhaps what he and his brother had done for her, Eren and Carla had faded from his mind. Melted away into to mix with all the other faceless people he had saved.

Mikasa was suddenly glad that Eren wasn't with her.

"Thank you!" Mikasa gave the lightest twitch in surprise and turned to see a mother and daughter standing a few steps away. To her shock, they were the only two left. Everyone else had passed through the gate. The child was beaming at her, an innocent expression she hadn't seen since those long-gone days in the village Doctor Yeager moved them to. The mother's eyes were glassy with gratitude, voice bleeding with thanks. "You saved our lives, Miss. All of us are in your debt." She actually dipped her head, to her.

Mikasa stared at them, at a loss for words. She wondered, fleetingly, why they were thanking her. In the end, she had done next to nothing in the wake of Yang and his sudden judgement. All she had done was look menacing. Then she composed herself, discarded her blunted blades and saluted them. They seemed quite pleased with that and quickly left.

Satisfied, an odd sensation warming her heart, she turned back to where Yang trekked—

Only for her heart to freeze in her chest. The rest of her squad had surrounded Yang, their blades drawn. Blades that were not blunt. Blades that could easily cut flesh. Blades that, she feared, would be of no effect against Guyver Yang. She saw her Team Captain, Ian Dietrich, level one of his blades with Yang's neck.

Cursing, she quickly went over.

Up above, clouds gathered in the sky.

* * *

Beneath the bio-metallic flesh that was his Guyver Unit, Estevan's lips curled. Contempt, a feeling he was well acquainted with, was what curled then.

At his front and sides were soldiers, all older than him and all taunt with what was most likely fear. They had their blades drawn and with them formed a small circle in some stupid hope to keep him contained. Like they could pose a serious threat to him. It occurred to him that they must have been watching him as he took out the fat bastard and at the sight of spilt blood, only now did they feel the impulse to act.

Attacking the one who actually did the thing they _should_ have done. What any normal human being with a pair of balls _ought_ to do.

Cowards.

It was so damn typical.

Estevan's ears rang with the sound of distant thunder and only now was the redness creeping out his vision like blood trickling down a sheet of glass. The storm had been raging nonstop for a good while now. Perhaps now, now that he had done some good, could he allow it to pass on until the next time.

It was hard, though, because he was just so pissed off at the moment.

They were still here. The reality of his and Josh's situation burned like iron brands in his flesh, making him want to scream until his lungs burst. They were still on this miserable world with man-eating giants and ineffective soldiers, people either dying or flying about like headless chickens all around them.

And now, somehow, these idiots had lost _another_ city. How had that happened? _Why_ did it happen?

He didn't care for either.

All he knew was that there were monsters about killing people, and it was his job to stop them, consequences be damned.

The thought of fighting and killing monsters should have helped put it out of his mind. It didn't. The storm had raged until it had finally filled his head with noise and a thick red fog when he came upon the travesty he had only just sorted out. A bastard putting fucking _merchandise_ before human life and a soldier thinking they ought to reason with them instead of just doing the logical thing.

He hadn't been able to stand it, so he acted. Had done what he did best. Did the soldier's job for them.

The look of fear and horror on the fat man's face had been a thing of beauty. He drunk his fear slowly before disposing of him. No need to drag it out with trash.

He couldn't be real, said the man. What pathetic last words.

A blast of the Sonic Buster, a kick up the ass to the crowd, and it was done. He went forward then, passing the solider without a glance. They were nothing, faceless, their gender and identity worthless to him. They all looked the same, after all, minor differences notwithstanding. He would have killed them then if they tried anything.

They would most likely be dead by the end of the day anyway.

As he had walked away, with the knowledge that the civilians were safe, the storm had waned and he began to register the world again. He began to calm down.

Then the rest of the troop, who had stood by and done _nothing_ while the fat bastard had actually _ordered_ the civilians to push his wagon through the gate as a Titan bared down on them, decided to stop him. Him, for doing the _right_ thing. For killing a man who _deserved_ to die.

It was so fucking typical.

"You-" Rasped a man with a slim face and defined cheekbones. He and the other two were all wearing the same uniform as that blonde coward who had left that Eren kid's mother to die, right down to the crest on their jacket's breast pocket and shoulders. "Do you realise w-what you've done?"

Oh joy; he was one of _those_ , was he? Estevan crossed his arms over his chest, the act alone making the others flinch with fear. He enjoyed that. "Do you?"

"You killed him!"

Estevan dubbed the man Captain Obvious, for obvious reasons. "No shit? I was wondering why I could see his brain."

He recalled the corpse. The hints of grey matter, the sharp white of bone and the spreading of blood like a blooming flower. If Josh had been here, he would have thrown a fit. He would have been furious.

Joshua was never going to know.

The narrowed face of Captain Obvious coloured with either anger or embarrassment. Perhaps both. In a move Estevan guessed was meant to be threatening, he levelled the tip of his left blade with the Guyver's right eye. "That man was one of the main suppliers of Trost! He was-!"

"I couldn't care less who or what that turd was." Estevan cut in, his distorted voice cold and flat, relishing the incensed look that grew on the man's face. And better for him to only know that the dead bastard was a bastard, a waste of space. Unworthy of life. And if he had been married or had kids—

Well.

That wasn't his problem, was it?

Tension was permeating the air around them like a thick odour, the other two soldiers flexing their hold on their weapons. If he was the leader, then he was the main logical target. The others would either run or be next. "Now, if you're done wasting my time…" Estevan muttered, done with these people, stepping towards the space between Captain Obvious and the soldier standing by his left. The latter flinched and stepped away, fear overtaking whatever moronic orders meant to follow. Smart boy.

But Captain Obvious seemed to be one of those special brands of stupid people. His right blade flashed in the dimming light as it was repositioned, the sharp edge coming parallel with Estevan's throat. He stopped moving. "You can't just walk away!" He snarled. "Not this time!"

This time? Not important.

The American rose his head, allowing access, wondering if the stupid little man could feel his eyes bore into him. Let him try, he thought fiercely. He can try and then he, Guyver Yang, would show what happens when people fucked with him.

Up above, clouds gathered in the sky.

"Sir! _Titans inbound!_ "

The voice came from behind but Estevan focused on what was steadily approaching down the road. True enough; a single Titan was heading their way. Glancing to his right, he saw two in the next block. Though he cursed as he shoved Captain Obvious aside, angry to have not noticed himself sooner, he quickly got back to work.

Shooting off the ground in a burst of speed, he rocketed towards the first Titan. Pulling back his right hand, clenched into a tight fist, he shot it forward when he reached close to the first Titan. It had its arms out, hands stretched to grasp him but he was quicker and made contact with its unsightly face. With a great cracking sound, it flew back to the ground with a mighty crash, its head snapping back from the force. He hoped to have broken its knobby neck.

He could easily atomise it if he wanted to; reduce it to a giant bloody smear with barely any effort. But that would be too easy. That wouldn't be any fun. That wouldn't _hurt_ enough.

And Estevan wanted to hurt these bastards as much as he could.

Without pausing, he moved. Flying over the rooftops of the buildings, he turned his fingers into blades. They glowed red, resonating at extremely high frequencies. He swung his hands and came to a stop on the roof beside him and the Titan, air billowing around him. He looked back to see the Titan's head leave its shoulders with a gust of blood. Its body fell shortly after.

Allowing himself to fell a swell of pride at the attack, he focused on the next Titan. Slightly smaller, perhaps ten meters tall. Jutting forward at speed the human eye wouldn't be able to track, he spun his body and his right foot connected with the Titan's head. Despite its height and likely mass, it was face planted into the ground without much effort. His Gravity Controller flashed and he fell like a stone, landing onto the Titan's nape. The soles of his feet tore through skin, muscle, and bone as though it were soft butter and the Titan's head bounced away from its body.

Estevan, standing in indented cobblestone, surveyed his work and declared it badass.

Or would have, if it weren't for the headless body pushing itself off the ground. Estevan stared incredulously at the sight. Headless, and yet still alive? Josh would have found this fascinating. Estevan found it annoying.

He decided to fix that.

He jumped and repeated his earlier attack. Landing onto the nape like a stone, he destroyed it in a burst of blood and gore. This time, the body didn't get back up.

Jumping back onto the rooftop, he saw that the first Titan he attacked was back on its feet. It looked at him and he took in its features. Blonde hair, square jaw, an actual snarl on its lips. Estevan walked forward, Titan blood steaming off his body, his pace casual and his metal-covered feet sounding off the tiles with each step. His arms spread wide; he kept his glowing fingers apart. If they touched, the resulting feedback would be explosive. Regardless of the minor drawback, they would be able to cut the Titan into little meaty pieces.

Something gleamed in the Titan's murky eyes, something that identified Estevan as its enemy and with a growl, it moved forward-

-A flash of silver-

-A squirt of blood-

Only to slump forward, crashing to its knees before face-planting into the building. It shuddered briefly. A flare of rage cut Estevan, eyes widening and face contorting behind the impassive mask of the Guyver. Who _dared_ -

The thief landed deftly a few steps before him, near the edge of the roof. The soldier rose to their full height and Estevan saw was it was a girl. Well, girl was simplifying it a bit. She looked as old as he was. Young woman, then. Estevan realised that she was the soldier from earlier, who had failed to deal with the fat bastard fast enough and his mind forced him to recognise her and her features. Admittedly, she stood out from most others he had seen so far. She was Asian, or perhaps half Asian (What was the term? Eurasian or something?), with pale skin, chin-length black hair and dark eyes.

Those eyes met the crimson stare of Guyver Yang without fear as she stood firmly before him. Just by looking her over, Estevan could see she was strong. A remarkably firm, built up woman. Of course she would be, he then thought. She was a soldier, after all.

Pity, that.

More people came up and Estevan turned to see it was Captain Obvious and his group. The girl must have been with them. Just like that, any and all interest in her died. He focused on Captain Obvious and stopped his fingers from oscillating but kept them as blades. They would still make short work of human flesh. "Well?" He said when no one spoke or moved.

Captain Obvious' mouth was pressed into a thin, tight line. Just when he looked ready to speak, to probably sell his people their own death warrant, a bell tolled in the distance. Estevan's Head Sensors registered the sound of the gate closing. The man's head turned slightly in the direction of the sound but not so much that he would lose focus on Estevan. He kept his eyes on him.

"Orders, sir?" Questioned one of the sheep, eyes darting fearfully between the captain and the Guyver.

Captain Obvious stared at Estevan for a long, tense moment. Then he sighed, sheathed his blades and said to his lackeys. "We're done here. Scale the Walls." His men looked quite relieved at this order and returned their blades to the holders on their thighs.

Estevan's anger rose to the back of his throat like scalding bile, his ears echoing with thunder. They were leaving? When Titans were still roaming about? When there could possibly be other civilians still trapped within the city? They were going to leave the job half done? Pathetic. How utterly, loathsomely _pathetic_. "Yeah, you do that." He hissed scathingly, delighted by the flinch the men gave. "Better you piss off now than get in _my_ way."

Turning away, stomping past the girl without a glance for the second time, he leapt from the edge of the roof to the next building in a single bound. Better he move before his temper ran away from him. Giving a terse breath, now alone with nothing to hit, he considered his next move as he walked up the slope of the building's roof.

He should find Josh. If, though he refused to hope much, all the civilians were all safely on the other side of the wall, then there was little point for him being on his own. Killing Titan might have been fun, sure, but without a goal to strive to, it would become dull fast. At least with Josh, he knew, there would be a plan. If he was lucky, Josh probably had this whole mess sorted out.

If anyone knew what they were doing, it would be Joshua.

He then thought fleetingly, _"I wonder how that Eren kid is doing?"_

So deep in his thoughts, considering roads to take and roads to ignore, he failed to notice the sound of cables and gears from behind. A voice, strong and feminine, he did notice: "Wait."

Not a cry for attention or of desperation, it was a firm request. An _order_.

Estevan stopped dead but did not turn to face the person. "What do you want?" He didn't hide the exasperated contempt from his voice.

"I'm coming with you."

—Seriously?

Estevan almost laughed. "I don't fucking think so, sweetheart." He began to move. He was near the top of the roof now and could see beyond that. There was no sign of a fifteen meter Guyver and so Estevan concluded that Joshua was still his normal height. That would make things a little bit difficult, but nothing he couldn't manage.

Footsteps behind him, then: "You're going to find your brother, right?" Estevan came to another sudden halt, his failure to reply immediately providing the girl with her answer. "He's most likely with my comrades. If you're going to him, then I'm coming with you."

Estevan could feel his temper mounting dangerously, his heart thundering against his rib cage. Why couldn't this annoying sheep stop its bleating and just leave him alone? Despite himself, he swirled around to face her, the thief who had taken his kill. The girl who hadn't just killed the fat bastard and get it done with. He was irritated that she didn't flinch under his gaze. "Get lost. You'll only get in my way."

"I won't." She said, sounding so sure of herself. Again, she met his gaze with a steely look of her own.

"You won't, huh?" Estevan muttered, utterly unconvinced. He watched her face tighten, full lips pursing, looking ready to argue. Maybe even fight.

He stared into her dark eyes and considered her. Her stance and her unwavering stare. Her bravery, irritating though it was, he couldn't outright ignore. He couldn't remember the last time anyone human had been so unafraid of the Guyver. He weighed the cons of her following him like a lost puppy to the pros of having a second set of hands.

But she was a soldier and he hated soldiers to the point of just looking at her in her stupid uniform made him physically sick. So why wasn't he trying harder to get rid of her? She would only slow him down. She would only be a nuisance.

Something— _tugged_ , in Estevan's mind. Something that told him to trust her, if only for the time being.

Estevan blinked, confused. Where the hell had that come from?

Giving a rough sigh, fed up, he turned his back to her and started moving. "Fine."

There were no words of gratitude, but he hadn't expected any. He began walking and heard her follow before she was then walking by his side. Like Joshua would. Like an _equal_.

Not in her fucking lifetime.

He didn't ask her name and didn't offer his own. Not that she asked or offered anyway. And that was fine. There was no point in making this personal. He wasn't blind to the reality of this unwanted situation forced onto him. They were using each other. Her his power and him her connivance. Once he found Josh and she her comrades, they would part ways and she would most likely be dead before this city was saved.

Joshua would mourn. Estevan would not.

He had only ever mourned for one soldier.

Just the one.

* * *

Guyver Yin asked three questions.

Question #1: What are the Titans?

Question #2: Why are the Titan attacking humanity?

Question #3: Why was humanity living behind the Walls?

Armin had finally gotten through giving an answer to each question, having to pause when Yin asked for an explanation on a certain subject each question brought up. He had explained to the Guardian beforehand that he was simply telling him what he had learned while growing up, but Yin had waved the concern away. Mina had offered some info herself, perhaps noticing that Armin needed to stop for a moment to regain air.

Though his face remained expressionless, Yin had listened with rapt attention. The three of them sat in a small circle and, now finished and after kindly thanking Armin, Yin had fallen silent. The White Guardian had his legs crossed under him, arms crossed over his broad metal chest and head lowered slightly. Armin couldn't tell if he was breathing or not.

Armin had been grateful for the distraction.

He had needed something to take his mind off of—of what happened, and literally explaining the entire history of humanity as he knew it to a being of legend was definitely a great distraction. Occasionally, he looked around. No Titans had appeared since he started talking with Yin, almost as if the world were allowing them this brief armistice. Not that Armin was in any rush to end it. He clung to it.

If he didn't think about it, he would be fine. And so that's what he did, filling his head with thoughts, so the bad ones didn't rush to crush him under the weight of his sins.

He looked over the Guardian, his sleek blue and white body. He looked at the metal and wondered how strong it was, then to the stark white, exposed flesh and considered its texture. The eyes glowed perpetually like lanterns, the orb in the forehead gleaming in the light like polished silver.

Though Armin had never given any of them much thought, he was aware of many of the theories that had circulated the Guyvers for the past five years. One such theory was the idea that the Guyvers were a pair of beings from beyond the Walls, living in spite of the Titans thanks to their advancements. Some called them the world's response to the Titans, like a cure to fight infection. Those were some of few theories that didn't involve Gods, angels or demons.

But Yin's questions had now proven that theory null and void. He had known nothing, absolutely nothing about their world and humanity's plight. All he had known was what he had experienced five years ago in Shiganshina and now. The rest was all unknown to him before Armin had told him. And if he didn't know, then it was very likely the same could be said of his brother.

It was impossible. _He_ was impossible. He simply could not be real, yet he was. A walking fantasy, a dream or nightmare made flesh. Though the body was humanlike outwardly, with arms and legs and five fingers and a voice and intelligence, everything else was completely inhuman. Like a Titan, yet also completely unlike a Titan. Armin found himself wondering if they only called Yin a _he_ for convenience because they didn't know what else to call it.

"Armin?" Mina. Armin turned to face her, feeling a twinge in his chest. She looked at him with concern that he was entirely undeserving of. "Are you okay?"

He should be the one saying that. Asking her if she was all right. That was the polite thing to do, wasn't it? As his Grandpa had taught him in place of his parents. He should be the one asking after it had been him who had left her, Nac, Mylius and Eren to-

His eyes slammed shut but he could still see emerald green glazed with scarlet. He fought down what felt like bile rising up his throat, swallowing deeply. He heard her say his name with increased concern and _God_ how did she do it? How was she not screaming at him? He would be screaming at himself. "I'm fine," He forced out, feeling as if a foot was pressing down onto his neck.

She pulled him into a one-arm embrace and he felt something melt inside him as he leaned against her. "It's okay to cry," Mina said lightly because she had always been a gentle, kind girl.

"I know," He said tightly and he wanted to follow her advice. He could feel the tears burn behind his eyes and the scream tucked under his chin but he was afraid to let either loose. Especially the latter. He repeated himself. "I know."

She said nothing, just squeezed him tighter. Yin remained where he was, still as stone, offering nothing.

Up above, clouds gathered in the sky.

"Hey, are you- Armin!?"

"Mina!"

They both jumped at the sudden voices and pulled away from each other, turning in the same direction. A different Squad of soldiers, of recruits, and of the five Armin recognised three right off. Ymir, Krista and Connie.

Armin and Mina hopped to their feet and the joy on Mina's face was a beautiful thing to see. It mirrored the sudden, powerful joy he felt at the sight of his friends.

Connie was quickly closing the distance between them. "Guys! What's happened, where's- Holy shit, _what is that?!_ " And just like that, Connie ruined the motion of the rest of his Squad.

Typically, a small Squad of five when stopping were meant to take positions to keep watch for Titans. If one were spotted, the rest would be quick to act. Connie's group, Ymir and Krista included, had been moving to do just that before his shout grabbed their attention. They clearly had been so deeply focused on the situation that they hadn't noticed the blue and white being sitting so still a few paces behind Armin.

With Connie's trembling, pointed finger, it was now hard not to notice.

They were quick to pull back together, blades drawn and at the ready. Ymir put herself before Krista but held off on pulling out a blade. Connie had Armin's arm in one hand and Mina's in another, frantically pulling them back.

Years of dealing with bullies made Armin adept at wrestle himself free of such a hold and he swiftly stood before them, hands held up, standing between them and Yin. "Wait, hold on! He's not our enemy!"

"The hell are you saying, Arlert?!" Barked one of the two he couldn't recognise, a boy with cropped dark hair. While Armin had made a firm collection of friends during his time training, more than he had ever imagined he would, it wasn't as though he had memories or gotten to know every single person of the 104th Corps.

Mina dived in to help before the situation got any worse, snapping before anyone else said anything that could light the match. "That's the White Guardian!"

It was amazing, really, how powerful a few small words could be. Armin watched as the tension drained away a bit, awe and disbelief rising to fill the gaps. It was different from how people brought up the name in conversations in the past, in arguments, using the Guardians as examples. There had been a lot of people from the 104th who wanted to be heroes. Now, though, with him actually there before their eyes, no one could dispute the Guyver's existence.

"You're kidding!" Connie breathed, eyes as wide as dinner plates.

Blades were sheathed and hesitant steps were made. Armin and Mina moved the quickest and it was perhaps their ease that inspired the others to come closer. Yin was still quiet, ominously so. It was beginning to worry Armin.

"I thought he was a myth," Krista said quietly, as if afraid to break the calm that hung over the Guardian, her large blue eyes staring at his still form.

"He actually has a horn." Uttered the other cadet whom Armin couldn't put a name to. His tone of voice and fair skin led Armin to assume he was a child from Wall Sina. There hadn't been many of those in the Training Corps. "And his eyes…"

"Glowing red, like blood." Connie finished with his own quiet awe.

Ymir, Armin noticed, hung back. She remained near enough Krista that, if she needed to pull her back, she was within grabbing distance. Her eyes were narrowed on the Guardian, calculating.

With hesitance in his steps, Connie stepped nearer to Yin. He then waved a hand before his crimson eyes, trying to incite a reaction. None was forthcoming. "What's he doing?"

"We don't know. He's been like this for a while now." Armin replied.

Connie continued to gaze at the Guyver before his eyes flickered around the flat rooftop, a sudden concern in his eyes. Without taking his eyes away from the distant smoke, he asked, "Hey guys…where's the rest of your Squad?"

The words were like fists, punching into Armin and breaking the wall that was steadily fortifying itself within his head. The rest of the Squad. Nac, Mylius and Eren. Armin knew where they were, Armin could tell Connie exactly where they were but it was like glass was in his throat and his ears were filled with Myluis' screams, the sound of Nac's abdomen splitting open and the crunch of Eren's arm being served by giant teeth-

"They're dead." Said Mina, the words falling from her lips with remarkable steadiness. He turned and saw that, despite this firmness of her voice, her gaze was lowered to the tiles beneath their feet and raw pain was flooding her eyes. Armin felt a prickling burst of shame. Of course he wouldn't be the only one affected by what happened.

Horror flew to their faces, flinches and gasps were made, and silence fell like a hammer. Only Ymir remained unaffected by the news. She was still staring at Yin. Armin felt a sudden, violent hatred towards the girl. How could she be so unmoved by their deaths?

Connie, when Armin looked back to him, was pale, his hazel pupils tiny in his large eyes. "Dead?" He breathed, clearly unable to believe it.

Armin could only nod in confirmation.

"But-" Connie stilled looked as though his mind was having trouble processing the information. He looked between Armin and Mina like a lost, frightened child. "How-?" He didn't finish, but the question was as clear as day:

How had Armin and Mina managed to survive if even Eren Yeager had fallen?

Ymir felt fit to answer. "Isn't that obvious, Connie? They were saved by this guy." Ymir finally moved from her spot, walking straight up to Yin. She stood over him with her hands on her hips, looking rather bored. As if the sight of him was unimpressive. "He must have turned up just in time to save them. Just not soon for the others. Bad fucking luck, that's all it is." And then she kicked him, in his side.

"Ymir!" Krista's cry was echoed by a startled shriek from Mina. Armin and the boys mere gapped at her like fishes out of water.

She looked at them, unabashed. "What? He's not doing anything," She kicked him again as if to prove her point. Her boot against his metal form birth a small sound of struck metal. "Some hero." She stepped back, pulled her leg back and Armin realised too late that she intended to kick him full in the face—

Only for her to gasp, along with the rest of them, when a blue and white hand shot up to grab her foot before the sole of her boot made contact. "Please don't do that," Yin said softly, looking up at Ymir. "You're ruining my concentration." He released her and Ymir immediately stepped away, pulling a startled Krista with her.

Yin looked at the new faces around him before rising to his feet. Armin noted then that, despite being five years older, Yin still towered over him. In fact, he towered over all of them. Excluding the horn, he must have been a solid six feet tall. The others stepped back as though they were expecting Yin to attack suddenly, so Armin stepped forward to address him. It was suddenly easier to speak. "Are you alright? You were quiet for a long while."

"I'm fine," Yin said, distorted voice firm and clear. As though he hadn't been sitting still for a good few minutes. Armin found it slightly easier to meet his fathomless eyes as they focused on him. "I was merely digesting everything you told me. Thinking my next move carefully." Again, he looked around at those gathered as seeing them for the first time. He seemed to debate something before looking back at Armin. "Tell me: What is your mission?"

Another question? Armin almost felt a twinge of amusement. "Our orders are to assist in the evacuation of civilians, to ensure their survival. Even if it means sacrificing our own."

"Yes, I had a feeling that would be the case." Yin murmured to himself, a note of disapproval registering in his distorted voice. He then sighed. "Very well, then. I suggest that you continue with your mission. I'll give you a hand."

"You'll help us?" Connie asked, a note of hope in his voice. The others, Ymir included, perked up also.

"To the very best of my abilities," Yin swore.

"Fuckin' A," Ymir said and there was actual joy in her voice. A grin stretched her lips as she looked at the others. "With Metal Man here on our side, our mission will be a helluva lot easier."

The others gave murmurs of agreement and Armin shared a look with Mina. There was a gleam of apprehensive hope in her obsidian eyes. Armin wished he could feel the same, but a discouraging thought refused to allow such feelings. Once everything was said and done, would the Guyvers leave again?

"Well then, shall we?" Yin turned and walked to the edge of the roof. He stopped, looking back over his shoulder. "One of you is going to have to lead. I'm unfamiliar with this place."

Wordlessly accepted in the Squad, the decision for leader ultimately fell to Armin. The blonde assumed it was the others thinking that, due to being on speaking terms with the White Guardian, that left him the only one fit for negotiations. Which was fine, because the mission needed to be done and Armin would have taken anything to keep his mind busy. To keep it distracted.

He couldn't really think of any place in particular for them to go. Trost's Military Headquarters was the logical choice, but their orders had been absolute: Not to return until all civilians were confirmed safe. Ultimately, Armin suggested a route that was unanimously agreed upon and they were off rocketing to the next building.

The White Guardian kept up with easily, leaping the distance in a single bound after them. They trotted along the tiled rooftop in silence, the others taking occasional glances at Yin as he ran with them.

Then Ymir decided to break the silence. "So, where have you been for the past five years?"

Armin almost, _almost_ , failed in his landed as he used a burst of gas to jump the space between buildings. Ymir had asked a question, _the_ question. The same one that hundreds upon thousands of others had wondered in these past five years. Everyone seemed to hold his or her breath, awaiting the response.

Yin was silent and didn't say anything. When the moment became minutes, Armin believed that there wasn't going to be a reply. It wasn't until they had made to the next building that he finally spoke. "It's complicated." Armin wondered if he was the only one who heard the great weariness that hung from the words.

Ymir scoffed as they reached the halfway point of the roof. "Always is."

They approached the end of the roof. From here, Armin thought, they would carry down the street. Where they would go from there—Well, Armin was still working on that. He hoped Yin had something sorted out, really. A plan would be _really_ good right about now.

Once they made it to the end of the roof, they jumped as one unit and spat out their cables. Their canisters propelled them forward and they glided through the street, in between the homes on either side of them. Homes now abandoned, cold and empty. Armin's attention, however, was held firm by the splatters of blood and the occasional torn body that littered the ground below. Distantly, he heard the others take a sharp intake of air or give a brief, muttered curse. Even more distantly, his mind produced the memories of Shadis barking at them while they learnt the ODM Gear, of keeping their eyes forward unless they wanted to smack into something.

But Armin wasn't thinking of Shadis' words, his eyes hazy with horror and unseeing as he flew through the air. He was thinking of Eren and the blood on his face and his arm flying off as the teeth came down with a sound like thunder after he had _saved_ him and oh God what was he doing?!

He couldn't do this. He couldn't do this!

He couldn't face Mikasa or Carla and he couldn't help Yin or anyone else because he was weak and spineless and pathetic and why _why_ had he survived when Eren should have whywhywhy _whwhywhy_ -

A metal clang filled the air; he blinked back into the world-

-a wall was rushing to meet him-

-the others (Mina? Connie?) calling his name-

-he had to move-

-why bother-

-he's gone-

-they would never forgive him-

-better this way-

Deep blue filled his vision and arm closed around him, air flowed over him and the world seemed to spin head over feet, and his feet touched the tiles of a roof.

Yin stepped back, his hands on his shoulders as he peered down at him with empty red eyes. "Are you alright, Armin?"

Armin stared blankly, his vision murky. Warm moisture was rolling down his cheeks. He gritted his teeth as what felt like the whole world pressed down on him and his knees buckled under the strain, collapsing against the Guyver. He was supported by gentle hands on his biceps, keeping him standing and he just wished that he could be allowed to fall.

He deserved it. He _wanted_ it.

He was speaking. "Why did you- W-why didn't you j-just let me _die?_ "

"Armin, I-"

"It should have been Eren, not me, don't you understand? Eren was more important, stronger. He _meant_ something…"

"Oh God, give it a rest, would you?" Sneered a biting voice. Ymir's voice. Armin flinched but didn't turn to face her. Couldn't face her.

"Ymir!" Hissed Krista's voice and she sounded livid.

In contrast, Ymir sounded unmoved and unapologetic. "What? Him crying about Yeager isn't going to bring him back. Crying about those who are dead is only going to get even _more_ people dead."

Armin refused to admit to the logic in that assessment. No matter how true it rang. What did Ymir know? She had never lost anything, lost anyone.

"Guys-" He heard Mina start, perhaps to pacify them, but she was overshadowed by Connie.

"His best friend has just _died,_ you heartless bitch!" Armin heard the anger in Connie's voice and found himself turning at the alien emotion. Connie's face was contorted as he glared hatefully at Ymir, who stared back at him as though he were a curious little bug she didn't know whether was worth crushing. The other two cadets stood away, not getting in the way. "He's _more_ than entitled to grieve!"

"Guys-"

"Connie, please!" Krista got between the two, staring pleading at Connie. Most cadets would have killed to have those blue eyes turned on them, yet Connie only glowered down at her like a wolf ready to tear apart a rabbit. "Ymir doesn't mean that! She's just-!"

"Yes, she does!" Snarled Connie, using an arm to shove Krista out of his way. The little blonde squeaked as he did so and Armin noticed Ymir's eyes suddenly sharpen, a cold and dangerous anger filling them. If Connie noticed, he was unperturbed. "All you ever do is spit on people, no matter what's happened to them! Well, you know what, I've-!"

"BOTH OF YOU, _SHUT UP!_ "

Armin almost leapt out of his skin at the sharp, unexpected explosion of Mina's voice. Krista made a small sound of fright and Connie and Ymir's heads snapped over to the girl, the latter looking genuinely shocked. Armin knew why immediately: In the three years of knowing her, Mina had never really gotten angry with anyone. She had always been kind and helpful, always stopping fights rather than getting involved with them. Any annoyance she ever had towards someone never lasted long.

And yet, as Armin stared at her, he saw that she looked more haunted than angry. With all eyes on her, Mina turned and pointed at something in the street. "Look there."

All of them, Yin included, moved to the edge of the roof. Armin followed Mina's extended arm up to the hand to the pointing finger and felt that familiar pressure close down upon his throat.

Down there, in the street, where two people. One was a girl with ginger hair tied into a ponytail; the other was a burly, well-built young man with a buzz cut. The man was on the ground with the girl pumping his chest with both hands, switching to cover his mouth with her own. Even with the distance between them, Armin recognised the young couple. Hannah Diamant and Franz Kefka. Even with the distance between, he could see the state they were both in.

Hannah, despite being so close to him, seemed oblivious to Franz's lack of anything below the stomach.

"God, Franz…" Connie breathed, voice trembling with horror at the sight of their fallen comrade.

"Hannah…" Krista's voice was steep with sympathy and despair. Beside her, Ymir said nothing. The muscles of her jaw were noticeably taut.

Armin glanced at Mina and felt a sharp twinge in his heart as he saw the tears leaking from her eyes and the tremble of the thin line of her lips. In a flash, he remembered that Mina and Hannah had become close friends during their years at the Training Corps. Both were kind and gentle, innocent despite the world around them. Mikasa had spoken fondly of them both, having been pulled into their little circle. Armin recalled being privately overjoyed that she had made such good friends, made some in general.

Relationships were not forbidden in the training corps and Armin suspected it had something to do with the emotional support. They were the subject of gossip, some being more successful and long-lasting than others.

It had also been no secret that Hannah and Franz were a couple, despite their poor attempts at being secretive. It didn't help that they both got embarrassed, very easily, whenever someone teased them about it. Earlier today, even, they had gotten flustered when Eren had irritably compared them to an old married couple.

Franz had been a good person, Armin remembered. He had liked Franz. Franz, who was so similar to Reiner in terms of strength and stature, but softer and quieter. A comforter who, despite being a perfect contender for a position of the top ten, was quite comfortable being an average solider. It was no wonder that Hannah had fallen in love with him.

And now Franz was dead, life snuffed out before his time, gone like the others. Like Eren. Armin, still aching with loss as he was, couldn't even begin to fathom the pain that was causing Hannah.

With the distance between them, he could just hear her speaking to what was left of Franz, unable to make out the words. The terror and desperation, though, rang loud and clear in his ears.

"No." Said Yin, jolting Armin out of his memories. He turned to the Guardian, seeing that the metallic orbs on either side of his head were pointing towards the two below. Armin wondered if those orbs on Yin's head were meant to be some kind of ears and wondered more so if he could hear Hannah, hear every desperate word and pleading sob.

"This can't be happening," Yin said as he stepped away from the edge of the roof, all eyes on him. His voice, unlike his face, was hollow and warped with horror. Armin and the other watched entranced, as the White Guardian fell to his knees with a metal crunch. "How can-?" His fathomless red eyes were looking at his palm that, to Armin's shock, were _shaking_. Hands coming to cover his burning eyes, head bowing as he snarled, the very clear anger in Yin's voice made them all flinch. "God _damn it_ , this isn't how it was supposed to be!"

The words hit Armin like a fist. Supposed to be? And suddenly, he was angry. A myriad of questions swelled within him, jumping to the tip of his tongue, but none of them made to pass his lips. Just how was it _supposed_ to be, he wanted to ask. How was all this _meant_ to be? Were things meant to be different, _better_? Why did the Guyvers leave five years ago, as suddenly as they had appeared, only to reappear now just as abruptly?

"Damn it." Yin suddenly spat. He rose his left hand, closed tight into a fist, and brought it down upon the titles. The whole building shuddered and they all stumbled, curses and cries of shock leaving them. "Damn it!" Yin brought his fist down again and the roof under him indenting greatly.

" _Damn it!_ " Cracks began to form around the small depression he kneeled in and with another pound of his fist, that small part of the roof finally caved in. He fell through the hole. From it echoed a crash.

Armin was ready to make his way to the hole, his mind compelling him to see if Yin was okay, before the whole building shuddered. Then again, and again, and again. He heard windows shattered and stone crack, wood splintering. Clay titles became loose and slid down, falling over the edge. The entire building's foundation seemed to be wavering. From the hole, punctuating each shuddering pound, Yin's enraged voice reached his ears. " _Damn it! Damn it! DAMN IT!_ "

Armin's mind snapped into action. "Everyone, _MOVE!_ " He turned and leapt off the trembling roof, shooting out a cable to the building opposite them. Five separate cables shot out nearby and the others flew beside him before landing with him on the other roof. Turning back, he watched in a mixture of horror and awe as the whole building shuddered and shook. The building stood at three stories and the third and second stories' windows had all shattered, glass raining onto the ground below.

Hannah was still there, still on the ground with Franz's corpse and he could see that she was just sitting there. Holding onto what was left of her lover, waiting to die.

He was about to call out to her, beg her to move, before the sound of fired cables and expelled gas and Connie and Krista both cried as one. "Mina!" He turned just to see her go, watching her as she flew downwards to Hannah. She snatched her off the ground just in time, the first stories' windows smashing into glittering shards that fell to litter the ground.

Mina landed on the roof with Hannah smoothly, a display of the skills they had all learned in the past three years. Hannah, however, didn't seem grateful. Rather, she pushed herself out of Mina's arms and moved forward, towards the edge of the roof without seeming to realise that there was nothing beyond that. Almost in harmony, Armin and Mina moved to grab an arm each and hold her firm. Then the ground floor of the building before them exploded outwards, the rest of it collapsing in on itself. A great cloud of dust that carried fragments of stone, wood and glass flew over the street like a wave of water. Franz's corpse was lost in that cloud.

The redhead was shouting, struggled against them like a rabid animal. "No! _No!_ Let me go! Franz! Franz, are you okay?! Say something!"

"Hannah!" Yelled Mina, digging her heels into the titles as she held onto her friend. "Hannah, calm down! Franz-" Fresh tears rolled down her face. "Franz is-"

"NO!" Howled Hannah and Armin winced at the sound. Her struggles increased and her eyes were wide and full of desperation wrought from despair. She couldn't, or wouldn't, believe what was reality. "No! He's not dead! _He's not dead!_ "

"Hannah, _please!_ " Mina begged, voice breaking with despair. Her resolve was breaking and Armin highly doubted that he alone could hold back 110 pounds of heartbroken girl alone.

Salvation came in the form of Ymir. She had move unnoticed by the three of them and in the space of time that it took to do so, her palm had achieved the desired velocity. The slap took Hannah totally unawares, resounding loudly against her cheek. The redhead stopped struggling, stopped screaming, green eyes blown wide as though water had been dunked on her.

"Enough, Hannah." Ymir's voice was low and even.

Armin and Mina stepped back, watching Hannah carefully. The girl's right cheek flared red, her eyes staring blankly towards were Franz's corpse laid covered in debris. From her lips, numbly, she uttered. "But- Franz-"

"He's dead, Hannah," Ymir said, her eyes like chips of ice. No compassion, no empathy. Just cold, unyielding reality. "He's dead. There's nothing you can do for him now."

Armin noticed Mina staring at Ymir as if she was seeing the older, taller girl for the first time.

The despair that crawled its way onto Hannah's face was a terrible thing to witness. Armin watched as her blank expression slowly crumbled into one of naked, heartbroken grief, tears rolling down her freckled cheeks. Her body lost all strength and she collapsed to her knees. Mina surged forward quickly, catching Hannah in her arms. The redhead didn't pull away from Mina like before, but neither did she lean into Mina. She sobbed, head bowed and shoulders shaking, and Armin heard Mina muttered sympathetic nothings repeatedly. He could see the tears leaking from her obsidian eyes.

Armin felt that terrible panic rise within him, closing around his heart with cold skeletal fingers. It was hard to breathe; it was coiling around his lungs too. He looked around the roof, at the others. Hoping that one of them would say something, mutter how they ought to be getting on. That remaining still was dangerous. But none of them said anything. Ymir was staring down at the two mourning girls, face unreadable. Krista looked sad and lost. Connie had his head turned away, face curled in anguish. And the two other boys-

They were gone! Armin looked around but there was no sign of them. They must have scampered during the commotion with Hannah. Nobody seemed to notice or care.

All of a sudden, it was raining. Armin flinched as a fledgeling drop plopped onto his head, looking up to the grey sky as the following drops made their path to the world below. A faint, gentle hiss filled the air. Armin almost wanted to laugh. On top of _everything_ else, it was now raining.

And then there was Yin. He just appeared in the space before the crying Mina and Hannah, flickering into existence with a sound of shredded air. Armin jerked back with a startled gasp, as did Ymir with a curse and he heard Krista and Connie make noises of shock. Mina looked up to Yin, tears indiscernible amidst the rain, whilst Hannah continued to grieve.

Yin walked up to her wordlessly, ignoring all others. He reached out and placed his left hand on her hair. Hannah twitched at the contact and her head jerked up, surprise written onto her freckled face before her wet eyes suddenly closed and she slumped in Mina's arms. Yin quietly said he had put her to sleep.

Ymir looked ready to say something, probably something rude, but thought better of it at the last second. That calculating look had returned.

Yin's body was coated with a thin layer of dust, bits of stone, glass and wood. The rain made short work of washing it away, cleaning the blue armour and white flesh. He stared at Hannah's sleeping form before uttering in a low, emotionless voice, "This has to stop."

Armin agreed, vehemently so, though he regarded Yin with a cautious eye. He was amazed that the White Guardian, who had so far displayed a great ability to remain calm and rational in grim circumstances, had descended into ravings as though the world was crashing around his ears.

It was hard to think that what he saw earlier had truly been Yin, who now looked straight ahead. He was still and silent, giving away nothing. Crimson eyes glowed in the dimness the clouds blanketed the world in. "There's a bell tolling. Does that mean anything?"

Armin turned to stare in the direction the Guardian was looking. He listened. He couldn't hear anything over the hissing of the rain. Baffled, he looked back to Yin.

"I have _very_ good hearing," Yin said, almost sounding tired and Armin noted the metallic orbs on either side of his head were moving. They must have been ears, must have been.

"That means it's done, all the civilians made it out." There was a note of relief in Ymir's voice as she swiped a hand over her wet forehead, hair clinging to the skin. Part of their military training had been to endure harsh conditions, be it blazing heat or drowning rain, so all of them were largely unaffected by the sudden downpour.

Ymir looked around at the rest of them, her sharp eyes focusing primarily on Krista. "We can head over the Walls, let the higher-ups deal with the rest."

"I'm staying," Connie said abruptly, as soon as Ymir stopped speaking. He fixed her with that stubborn look of his, the one he gave when he dared others to make him do otherwise. How many times had Armin seen that look during their years of training?

Ymir shrugged at his proclaim without a word, turning to look at Mina, who was still sitting with an unconscious Hannah in her arms. Armin wondered how she was, sitting on wet tiles. He could already feel his uniform cling to his back. Mina blinked, realised that Ymir was expecting an answer, and then looked to Armin. The blonde boy wished she wouldn't. Wished she didn't stare at him as though he could provide an answer for her. As though he had any inkling as to what to do.

Then Mina looked at Hannah's peaceful face, her own face flickering with some dark thought, before looking back at Ymir with hard eyes. "I'm staying too."

"Seriously?" Ymir muttered, looking annoyed and a little bit baffled. When Mina didn't falter under her gaze, she turned to Armin.

It was the moment he had been dreading, because quite honestly, Armin was still not too sure what to do.

The gears of his mind began to turn, as they often did in times of peril. Ymir was right. If the evacuation of civilians was complete, then they could leave. Head over the Wall and be done with it, done with all this terror and death and misery. To go would be no different than walking through a door, leaving behind a bad mess to be sorted by someone else. Armin could see it. Saw himself reaching for the handle. Except-

Except he didn't know where Mikasa was. Nor Jean, Reiner or Marco.

No, that wasn't right. He knew exactly where Mikasa would be.

If the evacuation of civilians was complete, then she would break off from her Squad and come looking for Eren, and him. She would disregard protocol to ensure their own safety. If Armin were to leave without encountering her, then she would search relentlessly. At risk to her own life. For them.

He couldn't do that to her. He could not abandon her. He-

He had to face her. The thought made his stomach turn.

Eren wouldn't have left anyone behind.

He rose his eyes (when had he lowered them?) to meet Ymir's. "I have to find Mikasa." Is what he wanted to say, but the words were lodged in his throat like rocks. He said nothing.

Ymir seemed to take his silence as an answer. She shook her head contemptuously. "You'll all idiots." She declared, ignoring Krista's following yell of anger as she spun on her heel and begun to make her way to the other end of the roof. Over her shoulder, she barked. "C'mon, Krista!"

"Wait."

Ymir stopped, turning back to face Yin. She was suddenly tense, as if ready to either fly or fight. Krista's eyes darted between her friend and the Guardian nervously, clearly fearful that a fight might merge between them. Armin found himself holding his breath too.

"I will not stop you from leaving. I only ask for one thing." Stepping forward, Yin gently extracted Hannah from Mina's arms and took her into his own. Holding her as if she weighed next to nothing. He looked back to Ymir, unreadable. "Take her with you."

Shock came to all their faces. Ymir recovered the quickest, expression morphing into a scowl of annoyance and scorn. "And why would I do that?"

"She is unfit for this place. Her grief will kill her. It would be better if she were behind the wall."

Armin couldn't disagree with any of that. He dreaded to think of how Hannah would be once she awoke. Would she be like he had been only minutes ago? Would she be worst?

Ymir looked entirely unsympathetic. Her usual expression. She scoffed loudly, spitting droplets of water. "I couldn't care-"

"Please." Yin's voice, which up to that point had been emotionless and even, suddenly took a note of plea.

Armin stared at the blank, blue face. The glowing eyes and silver orb. Very inhuman. Not for the first time, and most certainly not the last, he wondered just what this being was.

Ymir regarded the Guardian quietly, both their faces unreadable. That scrutinising look had returned once again, and Armin wondered if she was looking for either deception or weakness. When she seemingly found none, she stalked toward the Guyver. Ignoring Krista quiet, fearing mutter of her name. Stopped at arms distance. She craned her head and met the crimson stare unflinchingly. "And what are you gonna do?"

"Stay here."

"And what? Are you gonna try and save everyone?" Ymir probed with a voice loaded with contempt. Armin watched her carefully, catching the hard loathing in her eyes. Nothing new, except— "Be a hero and slay all the bad guys?"

"Yes." Yin's voice was hard, without doubt, or shame. "I can never ignore a situation where people need help."

A stretch of silence.

"Whatever," Ymir muttered, and despite the dismissal of her voice, she reached forward and took Hannah from the Guardian. Took her weight easily. Many cadets who had gotten on her wrong side had suffered from her considerable strength, her winding punches. In fact, she was one of the strongest people Armin knew.

He glanced at Krista, taking in the slim, small form before looking away and suppressing his curiosity. Now wasn't the time.

As she walked away, Ymir said over her shoulder. "If we're all still alive once this is over, you owe me, White Guardian."

"I'll be sure to remember that," Yin muttered.

Krista started her way after Ymir but stopped, looking between their faces. She looked pained and conflicted, painfully aware that this could be the last time they would see each other. It was Mina, of course, who broke the silence with. "Good luck, Krista. We'll see you on the other side." And then she smiled. Armin could not tell if it was fake or not.

The small blonde girl frowned at this. Armin looked at her pretty little face and wondered if what welled in her eyes was tears or rainwater. With a hurried, ashamed expression of luck, Krista turned and caught up with Ymir. The freckled girl had waited for her. They shot off into the distance and Armin saw that even whilst using the ODM Gear, Ymir had no trouble holding onto Hannah.

The blonde boy shared a look with Connie and Mina. Both of them looked tensed, worried, and just a little bit regretful of their decision. They looked to him as if he knew what to do. He looked to Yin. "So you're staying?" Murmured the White Guardian.

"I have to find Mikasa," Armin said again. It was easier to say the words to Yin.

"We have to find our friends," Mina spoke up, her voice wavering ever so slightly. With her face as it was, one couldn't tell the tears from the rainwater. Connie nodded in confirmation, schooling his expression. It was strange to see him so serious, Armin thought.

"Very well." Yin nodded and through his steely, distorted voice, Armin thought he sounded slightly impressed. He wished it had made him feel better.

Yin said they would go together, that he would help them find the others. He claimed that, if luck was on their side, they would find his brother along the way. The knowledge that Yang was present, somewhere in Trost, was a comfort to all of them.

They had shared a look, a mad and desperate hope sparking between them. Both the Guardians on their side, against the lumbering Titans. They could do it. They would survive. They would see tomorrow.

Armin clung to that hope, despite how flimsy it was. It was all he had.

Yin led the way, leaping off the edge of the roof. They followed, shooting out their cables.

Together, they flew in the rain.

* * *

 **And here we are with chapter three!**

 **So, things I changed:**

 **1\. Better story structures. This is going to come up in all the chapters, considering just how terrible it was in the original, so I'll get this out of the way first. I did more with this chapter than I did with the original as I had a lot more to work on and more angles to consider. I emphasized more on the characters and how the situation was affecting them. Focusing on them in the moment. A twisted joy to tackle, especially with all the shock and PTSD details I had to research.**

 **Also, some more world-building. I had to show how the Guyver had effected the world of the Walls as a whole, not just Eren. And this, sadly, is still only a tip of the iceberg.**

 **2\. Better** **characterization. This was something I knew needed addressing. My characters were really poor in the original, specifically the AOT ones. Armin was too harsh, Mina was too forgiving, Mikasa was too emotional and the Guyvers didn't have set personalities at the time. Even Dimo, who I remove swiftly, was done poorly. So, I made them all a little bit truer to themselves. At least, I hope I did!**

 **Funnily** **enough,** **when I started this story, I originally had it in mind for Armin to be jealous of the Guyvers for how profoundly they changed Eren and later become a _villain_. But since the story's grown since those baby days, that path for our favourite blonde is long dead. He's slightly jealous, but more on that later.**

 **3.** **Reeve's death. It was far too drawn out in the original when it didn't need to be, relating to the above points with bad structure. It's far more effective to have Estevan just appear and then kill him. He's already passed judgement, the rest is just him reading out the statement.**

 **And yes, I still killed Dimo Reeve off. This death will play into later events in the story with serious repercussions and won't be easily forgotten.**

 **A reminder that this is a _not_ a Fix-It story. While some things are better, other things get worse. _Much_ worse. **

**You'll see.**

 **Well, that's it for this one.**

 **Don't ask me when chapter four will be done, because I have no idea. This chapter was a special exception, as it was originally going to be Chapter Two. In terms of progress, though, it's about half done.**

 **I hope to see you then! Farewell!**


	6. Chapter Four

**My first post of 2020, and it's about damn time.**

 **Yeah, this is SUPER later and I apologize. Work, burn out and other such BS got in the way. But it's done now, and out for your reading pleasure. If any of you are still following the story, that is...**

 **More drama, more action and more refurbishment.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer - I don't own Attack on Titan, it all belongs to Kodansha. I also don't own Guyver, it all belongs to Kadokawa Shoten. I only own my OCs.**

* * *

 _"Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live."_ Norman Cousins

* * *

Chapter Four: Heartbeat

Jean Kirstein stood in the rain, wet to the bone, cold and deathly afraid for his life. He stood, waiting in bated breath, as the White Guardian calmly asked for silence to speak.

He was having a bad day.

An understatement if there ever was one.

But to be fair, he had been in a bad mood since yesterday. Since graduation. Three years of training and he had made top ten, coming up sixth. Not too bad. Hadn't been at the bottom, at least. Except he had come under Eren- _Goddamn_ -Yeager, who had gotten _fifth_.

Knowledge was power; someone once said. Jean didn't agree, for, in this case, the knowledge hurt. A wound to his pride that no bottle of ale had been able to numb.

Pissed though he was, he had been determined to enjoy the graduation revelry for all its worth. Everyone had been in high spirits, relieved that three years of hard, vigorous training had finally come to an end. They relived fond memories while ruminating on possible new ones, of the paths some were still uncertain about taking. People came to congratulate Jean and he revelled in the well-deserved praise, puffing up in pride.

Because he had worked for it, had strived for it, and his efforts were now finally paying off. The goal he had been climbing towards was finally within his reach. The Military Police awaited.

Just a few more days—

Jean had sat with Marco and they discussed their future. Not once in the past three years had they lost sight on their shared path. Marco had been boasting those ridiculous wishes to do well in serving the king yet again and Jean had teased him about coming clean, admitting his selfish desires. Mere teasing. He had long since accepted, baffling though it was, that his friend's reasons were heartfelt.

Jean had enough of a buzz going to proclaim gleefully the safety he would obtain from joining the MPs, finally escaping from the front line town that was his home. He would not miss it; the constant fear people had that the Walls of their home would come tumbling down like Shiganshina. It was fear that others, like Thomas, understood well. The envious looks he received told him of how badly they wished for his position, of how that fear persisted these five years like a powerful parasite.

The sight pleased him because it meant that they saw sense. Life within the interior would be _safe_. Safe from the Titans, safe from death and bloodshed. Only a suicidal maniac would want to join the Survey Corps.

Only a suicidal maniac would want to ruin everyone's good mood by talking.

So really, Jean shouldn't have been surprised that Eren Yeager went out of his way to bust his balls. As usual.

The moron was still dead set on joining the Survey Corps, much to Jean's non-existent shock. The jerk had gotten into his face, questioning his choice with blatant contempt. He was setting up their usual song and dance.

But Jean didn't plan to see Eren Yeager ever again and thus decided, there and then, for it to be their last bout. He had been lenient with the boy's misguide ideals and had mostly brushed off the boy's wanton eagerness to go past the Walls and kill all the Titans as something that would pass once he reached puberty. But sometimes it was like Eren lived in a whole other world and Jean had had enough. He laid it all out. He told the truth with his customary frankness, the reality of their situation since the Fall of Wall Maria, aware of the eyes of everyone else on him.

He didn't think he could have put it more transparent: There was no chance against the Titans.

(And no, Jean did _not_ bring up the Guardians. Fuck them. As far as he was concerned, they didn't exist.)

But Eren had been his usual thick-headed self, tried to make it sound as if the threat of death by Titan was worth it, and received not a jot of agreement from anyone. Real shock, that.

Their dance commenced. The moron was sloppy in his anger, his movements pitiful and predictable. This was the boy who was going to kill all the Titans? Pathetic. At least Jean had proven to be able to hold up.

It was the highlight of Jean's evening. Ended too soon by Mikasa.

Beautiful, silent Mikasa.

So, to conclude, Eren Yeager was the biggest dick on what was left of the world and had ruined graduation for Jean. He had gone to sleep bitter and envious and would deny any claim that it had anything to do with the girl that hovered relentlessly around the emerald-eyed boy.

He had woken up today with a splitting headache and Marco's chiding. A nasty combination. But amidst the pounding in his skull, he knew of a silver lining:

They were being stationed in Trost. His home.

Jean had decided that when he graduated, he would have one last look about his hometown before departing for the interior. He did not plan to return to Trost, and so would use this chance to tread familiar ground and say his final goodbyes.

And see his mother.

And that last point would have been private to him solely, had Armin and his big stupid brain not deduced his intentions. He had failed to deny him and Marco, who had been present, had looked so _proud_ that it made Jean sick with humiliation. He had stomped away, red in the face, deliberately ignoring Marco and Armin's calls to extend their best wishes to her.

He didn't go to her immediately, first going to an old sweet shop he had loved as a child and walking the embankment of the canals, recalling times when he had sat and simply watched the water drift by.

Everything looked different, somehow. Smaller and less oppressive, with details the child he had been now standing out to him as clearly as rays of sunlight.

This must have been what being an adult was like, Jean guessed. Returning to places of childhood and experiencing them again with older eyes.

The look on his mother's face, though, had not changed an iota. The way she lit up at the sight of him as he appeared quite unannounced. How she had run to embrace him as he stood there, taller, older and in full uniform. Yeah, okay. That had been worth the embarrassment.

It had been good to see her.

They caught up. He had been pleased to see she was all right, still lively and cheerful, had continued to manage her bakery by herself. The subject of that caused her to bring up childhood memories, of her cooking special meals for him and him helping her with bakeries. Not to mention a few embarrassing tales that would _never_ go beyond the confines of their home.

She had wanted him to tell her all about what he had gone through since their last meeting. Much to his horror, his Mom had sprung up unexpectedly a year ago during that debacle involving Commander Pixis. An unwanted trip home that had spiralled into a ridiculous nightmare. A day that had been unanimously agreed by all _never_ to be spoken about ever again. It had been weird for all involved.

She had been thrilled that he had made top ten, over the moon, regardless of where he had ranked. A celebration would be held, she declared. She would invite all the neighbours for a feast, naming people Jean hadn't thought of once in the past three years. People he had forgotten about.

He hadn't been able to stop smiling despite himself. God, he had missed this. Missed her. Let her fuss over him, let her embarrass him, let her cook his favourite omelette, he didn't care. It was just the two of them, him and her, and he was happy.

And he had missed her.

And he realised, the suddenness of it hitting him much like Eren's blow to the stomach the previous night, that he was never going to see her again.

Then the Colossal Titan appeared.

It was as if the whole world had turned on its side. Suddenly, Jean was back in the past. Back five years ago, when civilians from Shiganshina and other settlements of Wall Maria near Trost poured into his home like an infestation of rats. When people left their homes to make a beeline to the Capital, fearing a possible attack from the enormous Titan. When ugly fights had broken out between military personnel and refugees. When Jean hadn't slept for days, curled underneath his bedsheets, overloaded with fear and incomprehension of what had become of his peaceful life. When the military informed them that the town was now of the front lines, that an attack by the Colossal was highly possible. When the Survey Corps started coming through Trost for their expeditions, coming back bleeding, broken, and defeated almost every time.

And Eren wondered why he wanted to join the Military Police.

That old fear resurfaced to run rampant through the town and its citizens like a plague. The worst had finally come to past, they screamed. The due attack had arrived. The Titans were going to breach Wall Rose.

But Jean was no longer that child who had hidden from reality under a sheet of cloth. This time he was ready. Just about.

A single, powerful thought helped keep the fear in its place, keep his mind sharp and focused: Getting his mother to safety first. He had stayed with her, making sure she made it to the inner gate through the bustling crowd. Only then did he leave her side. He had a duty to perform, loathed as he was to do it. She told him to be safe and that she loved him, and the tears and drowning fear in her eyes, her fear for him, had been a terrible sight to see.

Jean didn't look back once he turned away. Couldn't look back. To do so would have broken what little resolve he had.

Optimism had never really been a part of his life, not as it was with Marco, so that resolve wilted and died pretty quickly when it became clear just how dire the situation was. The Titans were already deep within his home and people were already dead. And then, once it was finally done and the order to withdraw was given, it was too late. They had overused their supply gas; they were running on fumes now.

His Squad, made of himself, Marco and a few unnameable others, quickly found themselves leaderless and aimless. They retreated, meeting up with the other Squads, gathering in the warehouse district where they stood upon the roofs. Angry questions were thrown about: How had the vanguard fallen so quickly? How had the elite Squads failed so easily? Why had the orders to retreat taken so long to reach them?

Then the obvious question came: why hadn't they just gone to replenish their gas?

The answer came quickly: The supply depot had abandoned them.

Jean, as despair came to rest heavily inside his chest and cause him to sink to the tiles under his feet, knew why. They had all lost their will to fight. And, as a result, they had barricaded themselves within Trost's command centre. Now with the Titan's gathering on the outside of it, there was no way to get in.

Leaderless and running on fumes, with an armoury infested by Titans. The worst kind of situation to be stuck in.

In short, escape was not an option.

Oh, and it started raining. Yay.

Someone, perhaps Marco or Sasha, had tried to rally the others into one last mad dash. To leave the rooftop and try, at least, lessen the number of Titans and make their way into the headquarters. If not, they reasoned, the Titans would eventually breach Wall Rose.

But no one listened, no one spoke up in agreement. The only sound was the hissing rain.

Jean knew the reason for that, too. Solid though the plan was, they simply didn't have the numbers to pull it off. Plus, without someone strong enough to lead them, no one was willing to move. The will to fight was dead. But then, he supposed, it wouldn't have amounted to much. Titans came in all shapes and sizes, so there was little doubt that the supply room itself would be flowing with three or four-meter ones. Not ideal conditions, even if they survived the initial assault.

So they waited.

For death. For help. Whichever came first.

Jean had been fully expecting the former.

He sat there, wondering if this was how those broken and defeated members of the Survey Corps had felt when they returned from fighting, the clouds spitting on him unsympathetically. Despair had spread from his chest to his shoulders, a great weight keeping him seated.

What a dull life he had lived.

He really ought to say something. Something memorable. Except as he looked around and saw the similar despair cling to the others, saw Marco looking as though he was at the end of his rope, he found he couldn't say anything. His eyes, Jean noticed, had lost that bright spark. Optimism could only take one so far.

So, it had come as quite a surprise as he sat there, lost in that emotional vertigo when he heard Connie's bright voice in an elated shout. In disbelief, he had looked up just in time to see Armin's youthful face flood with relief. He had stared, quite openly, at Mina's pretty face. It had been hard to believe they were standing there, all alive, all okay.

And they had not been alone.

It was an impossible being of blue metal and white flesh. It had moved in the air without the aid of any gear, landing softy behind the trio, towering over them. Screams had erupted, panic struck like lightning, and those braver drew their blades in preparation to fight while the weaker either curled into themselves or begun to run.

Jean wished he could say he had been one of those brave people. He had become frozen stiff under those searing crimson eyes, unable to move, too fearful even to blink as the rain stung like an irritable insect.

Then Armin stopped them. Stopped the fear and panic dead. Told them something. Something impossible.

He had identified the being as the White Guardian.

And in the awed stillness that followed, Connie had run to Sasha's side while Mina surprised Annie with a sudden, desperate embrace. Jean noticed the blonde, quiet girl returned it a moment later. Armin had made his way to Jean with the Guardian silently following. After exchanging information on the situation with him and Marco, the White Guardian asked to voice his view on the matter.

Jean Kirstein stood in the rain, wet to the bone, cold and deathly afraid for his life. And yet, despite this fear, a sudden, powerful frisson had struck him to the core like an arrow. Something akin to hope.

He had spared a glance at the other cadets; saw them watching the exchange silently and with all the intent of a hawk eying prey. Those who had been sitting by in despair, waiting for death, now stood with newfound light in their eyes. They watched as if waiting to see the Guardian produce a miracle.

Jean was in no hurry to admit that he was hoping for the same thing.

* * *

"The only course of action to take, as I see it, is for all of you to make headway towards your supply building. Attack the Titans head-on before making your way inside. Terribly risky, I know, one I would personally never consent to, but I'm afraid circumstances are against us."

Judging by the look that came to Jean's face, those clearly weren't the words that he had been hoping for. It would be a lie if Armin said he hadn't felt the same way, but it was as Yin said, circumstances weren't allowing for an easy plan.

"I agree," Marco pipped up, twitching Yin's burning red eyes focused on him. His freckled cheeks went red with a sudden flush. "Ah-! F-forgive me, sir-" Armin watched, incredulously, as Marco started bowing before the metal being as though he were the king himself. Jean's look of shock melted into annoyance, looking on the crux of saying something most likely rude but was beaten to it by Yin, who rose a hand before Marco bent too low.

"Please don't do that." He said, almost groaning, and Marco obeyed immediately. He became straight as a post so suddenly that droplets of water flew off his drenched hair in an arc. He was now blushing in earnest, right to his roots. Armin saw Jean roll his eyes and found it a pleasing sight. Despite everything, Jean was retaining himself.

Yin looked between the three of them, the rain echoing a rapid-fire beat off his metal body, saying firmly. "Do not bow to me, and do not call me sir. I am not an officer, nor am I anything of royalty. I'm just…someone who's trying to help, that's all."

No one commented on it, the slight pause Yin took in defining himself. Armin locked the moment away, filing it under ' _Things to ruminate over later._ ' There were more pressing matters to deal with.

After parting ways with Ymir and Krista, Yin had been mostly silent as they jumped around the rooftops of Trost. After almost an hour that felt like a slow eternity, they had come upon everyone here and Yin had finally broken his silence, stepping back into himself at the sight of people needing help. Armin found himself wondering if this situation, as well as Shiganshina, were typical to the Guardian. As if saving people and fighting terrible creatures were everyday occurrences. The implication of such a notion did not sit well with Armin, so he decided not to pursue the thought any farther.

He did, however, have a vague understanding of how this might have felt for Yin. Armin's mind was bristling with energy, mind whirling with ideas and strategies. He was focused and that was good. He needed to keep busy because looking back was impossible. He said. "I agree with you too. It is the only option available to us. Except…" The blonde cast his gaze to the other cadets. They were all watching, all waiting, all hoping for salvation.

It was a fragile hope; he recognised grimly. The kind that children had when parents made half-hearted promises. The kind the weak took and held onto greedily in the darkest moments. So easy to make, just as easy to shatter. Armin knew because he was clinging to that same hope too, mad and desperate though it was. The same kind that Mina and Connie had. It was all they had.

"Without someone willing to lead, no-one dares to move. Can't say I don't understand them, either." It flickered before his eyes unwanted, unconsciously: Green eyes, wide and full of an odd kind of terror, before disappearing with a sound like two great stones smashing together. It was suddenly hard to breathe. "I mean, we- T-they're all too-"

"Afraid." Yin cut in smoothly, voice soft and gentle. Said in a normal human voice, it would have been lost in the hiss of the rain. Armin looked back to the Guardian, met those red eyes and felt a veil of calmness decent upon him. He nodded.

He received a nod in return. "Yes, I know. And I hardly blame you. Any of you. I mean…" His voice rang with sadness. "Are any of you _actual_ soldiers yet? I mean, on active duty and such? You're all so _young_ …"

"We all just graduated from training yesterday." Jean decided to be the one to inform Yin, perhaps missing the emotions that rang through the metallic drone of the Guyver's voice. He tried to smile, but all Armin saw was a strained, horrible grimace. "Serious shit luck, really."

"I've heard that already," Yin muttered, sounding quite unhappy. Armin wondered if he, too, was thinking of Ymir and if she and Krista had made it over the Wall without incident. The Guyver sighed heavily; his left hand going to his hip while his right went up to rubbed the back of his head. Armin couldn't help but be slightly irked by the remarkably human pose and action, wishing the inhuman looking creature didn't make such conflicting actions. It was becoming harder and harder for Armin to formulate some solid conclusion on what the creature was. "This entire situation is _ridiculous_. A colossal failure of military conduct. If you're all seriously just trainees, ones who have only _just_ graduated, then your higher-ups have sorely messed up. Professionals should have been left to deal with this situation, not you lot."

"Most of the elite Squad were massacred when this whole mess started," Marco stated, a touch hesitantly. He was probably aware of how unhappy the Guardian sounded and had no wish to turn that into outright anger. Or perhaps still embarrassed from earlier. At least he wasn't so red anymore. "The Survey Corps, those who deal in fighting Titans, left on an expedition beyond the Walls earlier in the day. They'd be the professionals you'd want."

"And I guess the chances of them returning any time soon are slim to non-existent?"

"It unlikely that word would even reach them," Armin said, drawing forth the most logical conclusion. "Even if it did, by the time they arrived, it would be too late."

"Figures." The Guardian muttered, so lowly the words were almost lost to Armin. The metal orb in his forehead glowed suddenly with power. "That settles it, then. Standing here is foolhardy, and it's not worth trying for the wall if you'll run out of gas on the journey. We have to take back your supply building, via a direct charge on the place. Simple."

"Simple?!" Jean yelled incredulously. A look of fear passed over his long, wet face. "Have you forgotten that there're swarms of Titans between us and the supply depo?! They'll get us before we're even halfway there!"

"Not if I lead the charge," Yin replied calmly.

"You think we can do it?" Marco asked when Jean made no reply. The taller boy looked blankly at the Guardian as if all words had been wiped from his mind. Perhaps, Armin speculated, he was still questioning if he could risk putting his trust and life within the Guyver's hands. "That we can actually do it?"

"I do," Yin said without a hint of doubt. He looked between the three of them again before saying, with a sudden casualness. "Don't let the Titans bother you. They're just monsters."

 _"Just?!"_ Armin stared, as did Jean and Marco, now truly left speechless as Yin turned away to address the other cadets. Yet again, Armin's mind swelled with implications. He thought back to Yin's outburst not even a full hour ago, verging on the edge of a breakdown, to his emotional state now and was left confused. It was like the sides of a coin, the same thing with different faces. Had he glimpsed a different face earlier? Or had it merely been a moment of temporary insanity from Yin?

He put his musings on hold as Yin started talking. His voice rang out strong and clear through the hiss of the rain. "I won't minx words." He had the crowd's undivided attention. "Your chances are slim, and your situation is dire. The only chance you have is to take back your supply depot. Then, and only then, will you be able to escape this madness alive."

There were immediate shouts of disbelief and fear, pessimism bleeding out into the air like blood from a wound. It was impossible, some said. The Titan had taken Trost, others said. There wasn't a chance of beating them, they said.

Yin calmly listened to each word before saying. "The Titans respond to me as if I was a human, which means that they'll be after me just as much as they'll be after you. I will lead the charge. I'll make sure their attention is kept solely on me. As I keep them busy, you lot can make your way to your armoury unnoticed. My brother will help, too, when he turns up."

That could work, Armin thought, blankly astonished. It was a simple but effective plan. It was true. From eyewitness reports from Shiganshina, from the mouth of Mr Hannes himself, the Titans apparently thought of the Guyvers as a food source too. They didn't eat animals, everyone knew, so it raised many questions as to why they would respond to the inhuman looking Guardians. Because they had a vague outline of a human? Or was it some primal instinct, something within them that recognised the duo as a danger?

So Yin's plan was viable. Should his brother appear, they could keep the bulk of the Titans occupied while the rest of them slipped away unnoticed. It would save them time, energy and gas. There would be the odd straggler Titan, perhaps an Abnormal or two, but if they were quick on their feet and made as high an effort to avoid them, then they could do it. They could make it.

Suddenly, that mad hope Armin felt didn't feel so desperate. Didn't feel so mad.

The Guardian cast his crimson eyes over the crowd, causing a few of them to flinch. In the gloom of the rain, his eyes seemed to glow brighter. Then, softly but no less clearly, he said. "I know that you're scared. Believe me, I understand. But this has to _stop_. People had _died_ and that _stops_ , right now." His distorted voice became steely. "The stakes are high, and the odds not exactly in your favour, but then when are they ever? But I am here now, and I _will_ protect you. I _will_ stop the Titans. You will survive, and you will see tomorrow."

"And you think you can do it?" It came as a small surprise to Armin that Reiner asked this. The older boy was noticeably tense, his lips a thin, tight line, golden eyes dark. Behind him, Bertholdt looked nervous. Armin remembered that Reiner had been among those to draw their blades at the sight of Yin. He had been the very first. "Turn this situation around and save everyone?"

"I do," Yin replied and again his voice was free of doubt. Armin noticed the thin line of Reiner's lips twist into a grimace as if he had swallowed something bitter.

The Guardian looked over the crowd again. Armin wondered, now, if he was hunting for any doubt. "I will not force anyone to follow me, none of you. If you want to stay, then so be it. Those who do follow me; however, I can promise will have my utmost protection."

"But you know that _if_ you stay here, you'll all die, right?"

All eyes turned in the direction of the new voice. Another distorted voice.

And there he stood. Another impossibility. A second Guardian. Guyver Yang, the Black Guyver. And just like his companion, he too hadn't seemed to change at all from five years ago. Armour still as red as blood, flesh as black as the night sky.

And _she_ was with him.

The hope that had been steadily building within Armin withered and died like a flower without sunlight. He watched; face morphing with terror as she moved to speak with Annie with an unfamiliar urgency in her steps. Armin noticed Mina, who had stayed by Annie, seemed to be trying to make herself as small and as unnoticeable as possible whilst Mikasa spoke with Annie. Reiner then pointed his way and-

Mikasa turned sharply, grey slamming onto blue.

Armin immediately lowered his head, hating the relief in her voice when she called his name as the distance between them rapidly closed. This was it, the moment he had resigned himself to endure. The moment he had been dreading. To lose another friend though his failings, though without it being so messy.

He felt weak, losing the feeling in his legs.

He wasn't ready.

* * *

"But you know that _if_ you stay here, you'll all die, right?"

No sooner than when the words left Estevan's lips, when all eyes turned to him, she was gone. Just as he had anticipated. Now that her friends had been found, she had left without a word of gratitude. Well, good riddance. Just another soldier in the crowd. Dying for some stupid cause. Not worth crying about.

Without moving his head, Estevan cast his eyes around the collection of faces. They all looked scared and fearful for their lives and they were all dressed within uniforms. All the same, a sea of light brown jackets and white pants. All soldiers, all without orders, and thus lacking the will to fight for themselves. All just waiting for death.

His lips turned. Well, what else was new?

Except, he thought, they all looked pretty young.

He focused on Josh and was confused to see him watch her pass him before looking back to Estevan. The American felt his eyes, his real eyes, bore into him through the armour that covered them both. He asked, blankly, what was the matter. With a slight shake of his head, after the shortest of pauses, Joshua said calmly. "Nothing."

The hell it was, but Estevan didn't bother calling him out on it. Moments like that were never nothing with Josh.

They clasped each other's wrists. The contact was momentary, but between them, it was all that was necessary to convey a wealth of feeling.

Estevan crossed his arms and drew himself up, allowing relief and any minute traces of worry to wash over and through him before vanishing, asking intently. "The situation?"

"Bad," Josh intoned grimly and they began to share information. There was no time to waste on pleasantries or jokes; they had a fuck-up to sort out.

Joshua, ever considerate, allowed him to go first and so Estevan informed him that all the remaining civilians within the town had been evacuated. Josh revealed that he knew on account of the bell that had rung after but thanked Estevan none the less. He also thanked him for personally seeing it done, a worry removed from his mind.

Estevan had, unseen, rolled his eyes at the unnecessary gratitude. Typical, polite Briton. He ignored the stab of guilt, sharp and burning. Joshua wouldn't have said any of that had he known how he had achieved this.

He was never going to know.

Once Estevan told Josh of how those pathetic soldiers had left as soon as the civilians were gone, Josh told him that had been their mission object: Ensure the survival of the civilians and then retreat behind the wall to await further instructions.

"Then why are this lot here?"

"There low on gas, for starters. Escape over the wall is impossible. Not to mention, their armoury-"

"Is overrun with Titans. Yeah, I saw." He and the girl had seen it from a distance earlier. Her shock had been minimal, fleeting, but there. The first colour of emotion he had seen on her pale face. It had passed when he had curtly told her they were carrying on and he had been a bit shocked when she didn't protest to this. Didn't demand him to go and take care of the Titans, which would have forced him to spell it out to her that he didn't want to act without his brother's opinion first. Finding her friends was a bigger priority to her than the safety of her comrades within the building.

Estevan had found himself impressed by her loyalty, her dedication to those dear to her. Not that he would ever say it aloud. Not that it mattered.

Because a wind-up toy's worth was only equal to how long its motor ran, it would eventually run out, to be replaced by a newer model. It was just a matter of time.

With the information he had only just learned, Joshua explained the situation further to Estevan.

The rage he felt upon being told that this lot had only just graduated from training, where really just kids with zero experience, was like a red-hot fist to the solar plexus. Un- _fucking_ -real! Those miserable cowards in high command had sent an army of rookies to deal with the situation. To deal with man-eating giants. Didn't they have any sense at all?! No wonder the town was on the verge of destruction!

Even as Josh explained that the true experts were away, that the situation had happened so abruptly and those of higher experience had perished, he was livid. A veil of red fell over his eyes. This could not stand, he thought, as his ears echoed with the sound of distant thunder. This would _not_ stand, he vowed, as the fire burned in his chest. Before this was over, whoever was in charge was going to suffer the full extent of his wrath. He grinned darkly. The thought pleased him.

Then Josh asked: "Who's the girl?"

"Huh?" Estevan replied as the veil fell away. Just enough for him to think coherently.

"The girl. The person you were with. The _soldier_ , unless my eyes deceive me."

"Hell if I know, she's just some grunt." Estevan pointedly ignored the emphasis Joshua put on the word, of all the things left unsaid.

"You mean-" Josh faltered and Estevan could picture his face. The creasing between his brows, the thin line of his lips, the worry in his eyes for fear being irritating. "She doesn't look at all… _familiar_ to you, in any way?"

"Familiar? Are you kidding me?" Now Estevan was beginning to get annoyed. What was the Brit talking about? Why had he sounded so hesitant in asking the question? He couldn't understand why his brother was interested in this. It had zero to do with the situation.

Josh stared at him for a long moment before sighing. "She's the girl from before. Do you remember? When we saved Eren and his mother?"

Estevan blinked. He hated moments like this, moments where Josh just completely took the rug from under his feet and dropped him into a swirling vortex of confusion. What the hell was he going on about?

Eren and his mother, of course, he remembered. They had only just saved them! With any luck, the woman would have awoken by now and Eren would be rejoicing in her warm embrace. On their way to safety. Not necessarily a new, better life, but at least they would be together and far away from the monsters.

And the girl? This woman? Was that meant to be a joke?

Yes, he remembered her. She was still fresh enough in his mind to be relevant. He had been behind her when that big ass Titan appeared, just as it was kicking in the wall. Tiny thing, he recalled. Slightly older than Eren, perhaps just starting her teens. Quiet where Eren was loud. Long dark hair and wearing a scarf on such a warm day. Bad fashion sense, to be sure-

This woman was wearing a scarf.

A sheet of frost covered his chest. Estevan slowly turned his eyes to face the woman. She was speaking with some short blonde chick, a friend he guessed. He looked at her. Her build was muscular and her dark hair was short. Around her neck was precisely the same scarf that child had worn, red as dried blood and withered with time.

Estevan's mind reeled. His stomach felt as though it was being pulled inside out, the world swaying and tilting. He fought hard against the feeling, grounding himself into reality and facing this impossibility. No, this couldn't be possible. It had to be coincident of some sort. He told himself. Perhaps some weird custom the Asians here had. Maybe this woman was an older sibling. There was no way this woman could be that little girl. The only way that could have been possible was if-

Was if-

"Was if we've gone forward in time." The words left his mouth numbly, giving voice to the only conclusion. The only way this impossibility could be possible. But Estevan didn't want it to be possible so he looked at Joshua with sudden desperation, knowing he could feel it past the Guyver's featureless mask, hoping the younger boy could disprove this and provide a true answer.

Josh's voice was sad and tired. "About five years, apparently."

Forget the rug, Estevan felt as though he had been thrown into the sea. A sea of black, choking tar. He felt it, crawling down his throat and blocking his airways. For a terrible moment, he couldn't breathe. He felt cornered and trapped, shoved there by this horrible fact. Every cell in his body felt as though a needle had stabbed it, making him feel numb. Five years. He felt ill. They had been shunted five years into the future. Thrust from one disaster into another. By _him_.

And it was the thought of _him_ , of their enemy, the author of all their pain and suffering, that brought out of that turbulent, black sea and threw him into a different force altogether. A great, billowing storm.

 _"Goddamn, inhuman motherfucker!"_ There was safety here, within the storm. It replaced the blackness with redness, filled his ears with thunder and sparked his brain with lightning. Fear and indecision were blasted away and he gained focus.

He took a breath, kept the storm in his chest, and breathed out. His breath felt hot on his tongue as if flames were coiling in the back of his throat. The cloying tar in his throat had vanished.

"What do we do?" Estevan asked Josh, ignoring the ghost smell of ash and death.

"We sort out the problem, as always." The Brit answered and Estevan was pleased to hear that, despite how weary the words were, there was unyielding steel underneath them. He knew his little brother would have his shit together. "I've already got a plan sorted, listen:"

And so Josh told him his plan. He listened to how they were to essentially use themselves as bait for the Titans while the trainees (he really couldn't call them soldiers) made it towards there supply depot. Estevan accepted it. Called it a good plan and meant it. Simple and straightforward, just the way he liked his plans. And even better, he got to slaughter some Titans.

There was no better way of venting than killing monsters.

Estevan looked past Joshua, towards the mass of people behind him. His lips curled again, downwards this time. He could not extend his complete and utter intolerance of soldiers towards this gaggle of kids. Because that was all they were: just kids. Kids playing soldier, without fully comprehending what such a game would entail. Without understanding how much of themselves they would be giving away. He was merely disappointed.

Disappointed that they would throw away their lives to follow whatever hollow cause was spewed out by the military. Even in this world, it seemed the military stretched out its skeletal fingers and took children by the handfuls to fight in the wars of older men.

But then, there was still hope for them. Estevan realised that, when they got their gas and made it over the wall, perhaps they would reconsider. Perhaps they would leave this misbegotten path and choose a different way to live their lives. A way that didn't involve them throwing away the years they could live to some cause made up before they were born.

A black and bloodstained hope brought about by the failings and fears of children, brought about by death and loss. The only hope that Estevan could count on not failing.

Humans were weak, after all.

Josh moved suddenly, turning, watching the girl as she made her way over to a boy with blonde hair before he deflated and murmured, "Oh no…", and the quiet words were steeped in so much pain that Estevan felt as though a fist had closed over his heart.

Estevan's mind flashed with recognition as he stared at the boy, who suddenly fell onto his knees. Recognised him as Eren's friend from before. (Christ, this was going to make things really awkward later.)

Noted that Eren was nowhere in sight.

He quickly focused on the conversation happening a few feet away with his Head Sensors, just as Josh moved his own. The storm in his head suddenly became an icy gale.

They watched and listened.

* * *

"Armin!"

This would be the first of three moments that defines Trost for Jean Kirstein.

Blind instinct propelled him into movement, lurching to grab Armin has the boy's knees seemed to fall under him. The blonde's head bowed as though it weighed more than his body, but Jean suspected that it was a deliberate move as Mikasa rapidly approached.

Mikasa. His heart clenched with emotion. He remembered the brief moment of disbelief of seeing her, standing there with the second Guardian. The one Jean assumed they called the Black Guardian. He had brought her to them, to _him_ , when they needed her the most. That, in and of itself, was a miracle.

He stood up and moved back a few steps, his vision tunnelled down to hold only Mikasa and Armin in his sight as she came to kneel before him. Marco wasn't there, the Guardians and all the other cadets weren't there. The world had become a stage and he was the sole member of the audience, watching the two actors begin their play.

Mikasa's arms were on Armin's shoulders and she was asking, with a worry in her voice that was as foreign as her ancestry, if he was all right. Where it any other occasion, and perhaps if it were Eren at the receiving end of such open concern, he would have felt envious. She got a stiff nod in return and Jean felt his stomach tighten at the brief but clear relief that surfaced to Mikasa's face.

 _"Something's wrong."_ The thought was like a cannonball, blasting all other thoughts into oblivion. He had seen Armin's face before he fell, saw the horror and the despair etched into his soft features and had only then recalled that he, Mina and Eren had been in the same Squad. Mikasa then asked where Eren was and there was no reply. Jean looked down at Armin and knew that the boy was crying. The rain could hide tears, but not grief.

Mikasa looked as though she had come to the same conclusion. Of course she would, she was brilliant like that. She repeated Armin's name with a more noticeable trace of worry and this time Armin's head snapped up to face her and his expression-

Then her face changed and Jean felt something within him crack.

Armin's head fell again. Thickly, as if drowning, he forced out between his teeth. "The cadets of Squad 34: Thomas Wagner, Nac Tias, Myluis Zeramuski-" With a great shudder, Armin spoke as though it were his dying gasp. "Eren Yeager…These four carried out their mission, and died valiantly in battle."

Everyone heard and everything became still. The rain continued to pour, its hiss like a cruel laugh.

Jean felt his heart drop into the acidic pit of his stomach. Not, felt it drop even further than that. With each name, he had felt a little bit more diminished. Thomas, Nac and Myluis. He had gotten to know the three of them well. They were comrades, friends—and now they were all dead. He could see them, in his head, memories playing out from training and from moments to leisure where they could act their age. Their smiles, their laughter, their lives.

They were his friends, his comrades, and now they were dead. It didn't seem real.

And Eren, Eren- _Goddamn_ -Yeager-

Him too?

Jean had never made any secret of his hate for Eren, his outright contempt for the younger boy and his ways, his constant 'I'm going to kill all the Titans' bullshit, to his trigger temper at the smallest thing. Jean had been the one to brand the moron the title of 'Suicidal Bastard', befitting an idiot who wanted to charge headfirst into battle. He had often said that he would be the first to die in battle while pitying Armin and Mikasa for not seeming aware of this glaringly obvious fate.

And now Eren Yeager was dead, and Jean felt nothing. No satisfaction of being right, of having outlived him, of knowing that the cause of so much vexation was gone forever.

He just felt a little bit more alone.

Jean remembered-

He remembered his disbelief at the White Guardian's proclaim that storming the armoury would be simple, that the Titans were just monsters. Speaking of the monsters that had pushed them to near extinction as one would a mere pest.

He remembered the hope that sparked within him as he realised the logic of the plan, simple but highly effective. He remembered the jolt he felt when he realised that he had actually started to _believe_ the Guardian. Believe that they could survive. That they could make it.

He remembered wondering what was wrong with him, taking the words of this stranger, this nonhuman being, at face value. He had looked at Marco, saw the hope in his eyes and his smile, and felt that their dream wasn't lost to them.

Now he wondered who he had been trying to fool. He cased his gaze to the others and saw any hope that had glimmered had come to ashes. They had all remembered the inevitable that they had foolishly tried to overcome.

He spared the Guardians a look. Saw that they were watching them. Jean had heard many tales say of how the Guardians were able to bring the dead back to life. He didn't know if that was true or not, but he felt part of himself wishing it was. Incredibly, he found himself wanting them to bring Eren back, not for himself, but for Armin and Mikasa. He wanted them to do something, _anything_. Anything that would stop Armin's tears and remove the look on Mikasa's face.

But they did nothing. They just stood there, watching. Two witnesses to human despair. Outsiders looking in. And there was something slightly pathetic about them in the way they just stood there, standing still and quiet in the rain. Jean knew, even with those vacant metal faces and soulless eyes, that they knew it themselves.

It was hopeless.

They were all going to die here.

What a sorry sight they were. Here, in the rain, within his demolished hometown, they stood in collective, horrified silence. The hope of survival, of the future, all but shattered.

Armin's hands balled to fists on his knees as he cried, croaking how sorry he was, how it was all his fault for being weak, for not doing anything. His head was bowed so deeply to Mikasa that Jean couldn't help but think of those Wallist freaks as they bowed before the Walls. Mikasa had fallen completely silent, still as a statue where she knelt before Armin, her eyes hidden beneath her wet bangs. Jean recalled how her hair had been what pulled him to her in the first place.

He felt the distant desire to comfort her, to pull her to her feet, to say something. It was, he recognised, a chance he had always wanted. To be there for her. And she was right there, right within arm's reach. So close and yet—she seemed even further away now than she had ever been. He knew there was nothing he could say. No words would soften her grief.

So Jean did nothing. He stood there, cold and wet, over them both. He resumed waiting.

Then a hand, pale and slender, fell over Armin's clenched fist. "Armin," Mikasa said and her voice was impossibly calm and levelled. "Calm down. Now's not the time to get emotional."

Yet again, Jean's mind rang with the prediction that something was wrong. Almost in harmony, Jean and Armin looked to her. The blonde rising his bowed head and Jean tilting his downwards. She looked the same as always. Impassive, giving nothing away. Many guys who were stupid, and couldn't recognise beauty, often called her sullen. No, that wasn't right. Something was different; something had _changed_. What-?

Jean saw it. Fear trickled down his back like the brush of icy cold fingers.

It was her eyes, those brilliant grey eyes. Something was gone from them.

Something had died.

"On your feet." She pulled Armin to his feet as she rose to her own, turning to walk towards the edge of the roof without a glance back. Jean felt stung as he watched her go. She hadn't even acknowledged his presence. As if he hadn't been there at all. Her gait steady and unfaltering, radiating power, she started speaking to Marco of all people. "Marco, if we eliminate or bypass the Titans at HQ, we can there refuel our gear. Allowing us to get back over the Wall. Is that assessment correct?"

The Guardians both moved wordlessly to the right, out of Mikasa's way. They watched her go the whole time.

Jean shared a look with Marco; saw the worry in his friend's eyes before he answered dutifully. "Well, yes, that's right. And now with you here, plus the Guardians, surely we can-"

Pivoting sharply on her heel, Jean twitched at the dark, dangerous look in Mikasa's vacant eyes. It stopped Marco dead and Jean felt rather than saw Armin freeze. "I can do it alone."

Ice speared Jean. He stared at her, muted. So did Armin and Marco. So did all the others.

Now standing at the edge of the roof, Mikasa pulled forth one of her blades and held it aloft. She looked every bit like a warrior from a fable, standing there in the rain, framed by the ruined city of Trost. When she spoke, addressing them all, it was the loudest that Jean had ever heard her before. "I'm strong. Real strong. None of you even come close, you hear me? I am a warrior!" It was faint, but Jean heard it, just for a second: a faint crack in her voice. A hint of raw pain. "Know this: I have the power to slaughter all the Titans that block our path, alone if I have to. As far as I'm concerned, I am surrounded by a group of unskilled, cowardly worms!"

Nobody spoke in defence. Nobody dared to breathe.

Her voice dropping colder, tingled with contempt, Mikasa levelled her blade until it was pointing at her audience. "You disappoint me. You can all just sit here, and twiddle your thumbs, and watch how it's done!"

"Now hold on just a minute!" Jean jumped, along with several others, as the White Guardian's voice rang out suddenly. The blue and white being took a few steps forward to Mikasa, who stared coldly at him through the corner of her eyes. "If you go out there alone, you'll die! I understand your pain but-"

" _Don't_ -" Mikasa's blade whirled through the rain before it was pointing right at the White Guardian's chest. Directly where a human's heart would be. "Don't you _dare-!"_ Mikasa's face flashed with a sudden rage that she visibly wrestled to control. "After five years, after _everything_ \- Don't you dare think you can give me orders!"

Jean wasn't sure what scared him the worst: The anger that dirtied Mikasa's face, as alien there was the worry that had marred it prior or the words she spat towards the White Guardian, of all creatures. Rumours said that such words would lead to instant death.

But the Guardian didn't get angry. Didn't lift a finger to harm her. Didn't do anything to her. Jean saw him flinch as if struck. "That's not it…" And Jean heard the sadness in the hushed words.

The Black Guardian said nothing. His hands were closed tight.

"Mikasa, are you out of your mind?! That's crazy!" Mina spoke up, looking horrified.

Ever fearful Daz echoed her fears. "You can't be serious, taking them all out by yourself!"

"There's no way you can hope to beat them!"

Mikasa looked back to them and her face was clean of all emotion. That, Jean thought, was more frightening to him than the anger. She looked like an animated doll, soulless. As if all the life had been drained from her. "If I can't beat them, then I die." She turned away, facing the distant buildings. "But, if I win, I'll live. And the only way to win is to _fight_."

And then she was gone, shooting off into the distant rain. Flying away from them, from _him_. Jean felt cold and numb in a way that had nothing to do with the rain. He wondered, distantly, if this was what being rejected would feel like. He heard Armin murmur Mikasa's name with such deep worry only a childhood friend could possess.

For a long moment, there was nix but the hissing laughter of the rain.

Then the Black Guardian broke the silence, speaking to his brother. "Unbelievable." The word was breathless with anger. "I thought she was a level-headed person, but instead, she's a complete fucking idiot!"

"She's _grieving_." The White Guardian replied tersely. "And I need only look at her once to know she's not exactly the emotional type." He turned to face them, saying above the hiss of the rain. "What I said before stands: If you want to live, stay close behind us. If you'd rather stay here, fine. The choice is yours." And then, in a single bound, he turned and leapt off the roof. After Mikasa.

The Black Guardian was after him a moment later, but not before stabbing a claw at them and saying with a level of threat. "And don't get in our way!"

Jean watched them go; two coloured blurs losing definition in the distance, numbness spreading throughout his body. Numbs words blurred through his lips. "You know, I was expecting something a bit more motivational. None of them were exactly inspiring." Something was in his hands. He looked down, seeing drops of water trail down his blades. He didn't recall drawing them.

Jean found himself thinking of Nac, Myluis and Thomas. Of the raw grief in Armin's voice and the lifelessness in Mikasa's eyes. The love in his mother, who he might never see again. And, inexplicably, that annoying gleam that had always been in Eren Yeager's eyes. Almost like the one in Marco's but not nearly as refined, composed or endearing.

He ground his teeth together so hard he could have turned them to dust. Damn it. Damn it all!

"This is all your fault, Eren." He hissed, meaning it with every fibre of his being. He had never hated the boy as much as he did then. The suicidal maniac's death had effected Mikasa in a far worst way than he ever expected. It had affected them all in a way they had never expected, even him.

There was just no helping it. Damn it all to hell.

"Hey, don't just stand there!" He bellowed suddenly at the others, who remained standing still and dumb. Jean wondered if that was how he had been looking mere moments before and felt quite disgusted with himself. He was now, without a doubt, neither of those things. "We weren't taught to let our comrades fight alone?! Unless you _are_ a coward, in which case, you can stay out of _my_ way!"

And then, without a glance back or a moment's hesitance, Jean ran to the edge of the building and jumped.

The rain did little to impede him as he shot forward, determined to catch up with the Guardians and Mikasa. Mostly Mikasa. He rode on the sudden, powerful adrenaline that pumped through his blood and reminded himself of the White Guardian's plan. It was a plan that could work, that _had_ to work; all he needed to do was keep his head on straight.

Doubt began to creep in gradually. Along with fear. What had he done? He had gone it alone because Mikasa had and no one would follow him because why would they and holy shit this was _stupid!_

Then he heard the collective roar of his fellow cadets. He spared a glance back and his heart thumped against his ribs. As far as he could see, each and every one of them was following after him. In no time at all, Marco, Armin and Connie were flying by his side. While there was some apprehension lining their faces, there was also a burning determination in their eyes.

Jean looked forward, lowering his head enough to hide his grin.

Two beings of colour, one blue one red, came into vision. The Guardians, sprinting on a rooftop at a speed that not even the most physically adept soldier could manage. When they got to the end of the building, they simply jumped the space between it and the next one. In contrast, they used their Gear to make the jump.

Jean noted that walking across the rooftops was necessary, at least until they were about halfway there. If his guess about their gas supply was right, some of them were going to start dropping like stones.

He shouted: "Hurry up! Follow the Guardians! Stick to the plan and avoid fighting if you can!"

Ahead, a Titan fell as Mikasa deftly killed it. She moved faster than they all did, shooting forward like a human bullet. They were, all of them, following behind her.

There were, actually, very few Titans in this area. Jean suspected that the Guardian's plan would only come into major effect the closer that got to their HQ. For now, any stragglers were swiftly taken care of by Mikasa.

"Whoa, Mikasa's a badass!" Jean was inclined to agree with Connie's loudly voiced awe. "How is she going so fast?!"

Jean didn't think it worth thinking about. This was Mikasa Ackerman they were talking about, the best of the 104th. She was brilliant at everything she did and more beautiful than anything else on this wretched world of theirs. If anyone could kill all the Titans and work the ODM Gear like it was their favourite toy, then it was Mikasa.

But a momentary glance at Armin, who watched his friend with an expression of great fear, chilled his awe.

He looked back in time to see Mikasa propel herself forward with a short but powerful burst of gas, angling her body flawlessly so that both blades took a giant chunk of Titan nape like it was soft cheese. It died instantly, falling to crash into that sweet shop he had adored once. For a brief moment, Mikasa sailed through the air before her cables shot out and a burst of gas sent her soaring again. All in one, smooth, unbroken movement.

Jean was aware of distant sounds of awe but they didn't reach his ears. Despite the wet of the rain, the cold bite of the air, the terror that gnawed at his gut, he felt warm as he watched her. He had seen her use the Gear during their training years and knew she could use it well, but God _damn_ , this was a whole other level! She really was amazing. He continued to watch her as she climbed higher into the air, going higher than perhaps anyone using the ODM Gear had before her, and Jean could only watch her. As always. It seemed that, no matter what, he was destined to watch her soar at a distance.

Then she ran out of gas.

Then she fell like a stone.

Horror filled Jean and that horror was given form by Armin's terrified cry of her name, swiftly followed by a loud and angry distorted voice shouting: "Oh for fuck's sake!"

There was a sound like cannon fire and a red blur shot through the air. Displaced wind and rainwater slapped Jean in the face and he shook his head in time to see Mikasa, who came dangerously close to crashing onto a roof, be grabbed by the Black Guardian. He saw their forms tumble in the air before they disappeared from view, behind the distant height of buildings.

Every fibre of Jean's being screamed to go after her but the cry of another distorted voice kept him in place. "Stay the course!" The White Guardian was flying alongside them now, in mid-air, the metal orb in his abdomen glowing. Jean was too overwhelmed with horror to be surprised by this display of power. "My brother has her; he'll keep her safe."

Jean clenched his jaw, biting back anything and everything he could say. His mind whirled with panic. How had it happened? How had Mikasa fallen? Had she been so focused on getting to their HQ that she failed to notice how much gas she was using? Or, the horrible thought came to the front of Jean's mind: Had she been _deliberately_ exhausting her gas supply, knowing what would happen and doing it anyway?

But no, surely not. Not Mikasa. Mikasa Ackerman would never commit suicide. Not because of the death of one person.

Right?

 _"…Did Eren really mean_ that _much to you?!"_

"Damn it." Jean cursed, bitterness coursing through him like a terrible poison. Had he been deluding himself this whole time?

He shook his head, clearing the dark cobwebs before they become too thick. No. Now wasn't the time. They had to keep going.

They had to survive.

* * *

She had failed.

Mikasa cut a path towards HQ. Rain fell into her eyes and wind screamed in her ears.

She didn't even blink.

The first Titan she saw, she extended her steel cable into a building past it and reeled herself forward to slice off the nape of its neck. She did it perfectly.

She had failed.

Another Titan fell into her vision. Far off. With her cables securely locked into a bell tower, she swung through the street in a wide arc. She retracted them, surged forward in a burst of gas and off went the nape of its neck. She did it perfectly.

It was easy, she thought. So easy. Really though, compared to protecting Eren, anything was easy.

It was all a matter of repetition and Mikasa knew she could do it countless times before she reached HQ. The Titans would fall to her blades. They were nothing. Just mindless, worthless bodies of blood and gore that could be beaten by a single strike. And a single strike would be all it took.

It was easy, so easy.

But now this repetition held no more importance to Mikasa. It no longer held any meaning for it would longer get her anywhere. She was never going to get anywhere.

She had failed.

Failed. The very word was like an iron hot brand on the skin, searing to the bone.

She wasn't nearly going fast enough. She had to go quicker. If she didn't, she wouldn't fulfil her duty quick enough. If she didn't, she would stop and then what?

She didn't need the help of her comrades and she _especially_ didn't want the Guyvers' help.

She didn't need anyone.

So she pushed the ODM Gear harder, shooting herself forward. It was still raining; it had been raining for nearly two hours now. She hated the rain. She wanted to see the sun. Perhaps if she breached the clouds, she would find it?

Mikasa was a good twenty meters from the ground before she realised that, no matter how high she went or how fast she ran, Eren still wouldn't be there.

He was never going to be there.

He was never going to be anywhere she looked.

Eren was gone.

He was dead because she had left him.

Carla Yeager had accepted Mikasa as if she was her own daughter, welcoming her into her home with unfailing love and kindness that Mikasa knew she was as likely to repay as the debt she owed Eren. Carla had only asked of her one thing, just the one favour, a simple thing: To keep her son safe, no matter what.

And she had failed.

She had let him go off into this hell without her and he had died, as she dreaded would happen. As she had _known_ would happen. She had let her duty override the promise she had made to the woman who had gracefully accepted her into her home. The woman who had filled the void left by her birth mother.

He had left her without saying goodbye.

It was all she could see. His hard, angry stare as he yanked himself free of the piteous hold she had on the sleeve of his jacket. His back as he left without a word.

She had lost him without saying goodbye, and everything else that she ever wanted to tell him. So many things.

Mikasa could do anything. If she set her mind to it, she could do it. There had been very little in life so far, no task or trial, which she had not overcome. She could slay hordes of Titans with batting an eye. She could scale all the Walls and fight the unknown of the world beyond without fear. She could go to the edge of the earth and back without fail.

She could do all of those things and more, so long as Eren was by her side.

If he was there, she could do anything. She didn't need anything else.

Now—she could do none of those things.

Even fighting, now, she could no longer do.

What was the point?

What point was there, if Eren wouldn't be there when she was done?

How could she ever face Carla after this vast failure?

All this circulated through Mikasa's mind before she heard her gas canisters splutter dry.

For a single moment, she was suspended, hovering in the air. There was nothing for her to anchor herself to; she had sent herself up too high. The clouds were grey and spitting and she was cold. Her uniform, even her scarf, was soaked and now the cold pierced her to the core.

Funny that, considering it had been warm at the start of the day.

How had everything turned out like this?

Mikasa reached up, blade still held within her hand and she thought about hacking the greyness of the sky away and finding the sun. She was so cold; she wanted to be warm again. Perhaps the sun would never shine again. Perhaps she would never be warm again.

And then, as the world pulled her down with all its callousness, Mikasa thought that she hadn't been this cold since _that day_ , lying on the cold wooden floor.

Ah, she hated the rain. It always reminded her of that cabin in the woods.

She plummeted, the wind roaring in her ears, awaited the impact. Perhaps she would feel it. Perhaps she would not.

Something collided heavily with her and the world twisted and turned. She was moved, something coiling under her knees and a warm hand grasping her shoulder before finally, the world straightened itself out. There was a shuddering impact, the sound of tiles cracking underfoot, and burning blood-red eyes blocked Mikasa's view of the clouds above.

"You _idiot!_ " Snarled Guyver Yang as he shot forward, each word laced with fury as they left whatever passed for his mouth. "You stupid, _stupid_ bitch! I can't believe you'd pull shit like this!"

Mikasa's mind caught up with her. She blinked.

She was in the Black Guardian's arms. He was carrying her. Carrying her as he ran towards HQ, completely unaffected by rain or wind. The world seemed to blur around them as he ran.

He had come for her.

He had saved her when she had fallen.

—She hadn't _wanted_ to be saved.

Mikasa stared at the flat, emotionless features of the Guyver and felt something unlocked within her chest. She was neither cold nor numb. She could hear her heart pound in her ears, felt every muscle in her body surge and crack as through truck by lightning and her lips peeled away from her teeth in a vicious snarl. Her body suddenly felt far too small for the crimson tempest that burned inside and she was acutely aware of the blades that were still in her hands and still held a sharp edge. She had learned to hold back, if only by a touch.

For the Guyver, she would show no such mercy.

With a wordless cry of rage, she thrust the blade in her right hand at Yang's face when she angled it right. He cried out in shock but dodge it in time, head tilting sharply to the side in a birdlike motion, the blade a hair's breadth from making contact with the black flesh of his neck.

He stopped and threw her from his arms like she were a rabid animal but Mikasa twisted herself so she landed on her feet, the rubber soles of her boots squeaking on the wet tiles. She bent her knees, absorbed the impact, before surging forwards with her blades at her sides like silver insect wings. The distance between them closed immediately and she was on him.

Her blades whistled as they flew through the air, each wave leaving a trail of silver and rain, each swing missing as Yang stepped back or bent out of the way. Anger pushed Mikasa on, coursed through her blood like molten heat, making her swing harder and faster.

Yang spoke between his movements, leaning back out of a slice that would have opened up his throat. "Christ, stop-!"

" _Fight!_ " Mikasa didn't recognise her voice. It was coarse with rage, loud with hate. She brought both blades up to bring them down upon the Guyver's head, but he sidestepped her as they sang their descent. The red of his eyes illuminated the side of her wet face. Then she felt a hand on her back and the tiled rooftop rose up to met her. Yang had tripped her with one foot, shoving her forward.

"What the hell's gotten into you?!" His distorted voice barked for above the hiss of the rain. "I save your pathetic ass and now you try to slice me open?!"

Had he been expecting gratitude from her? His presumptuous only enticed her anger more. Pushing up on her hands and knees, words tumbled numbly from her lips. "Why did you…" It was hard to speak with her heart pounding in her ears, the heat in her chest.

"What?"

"Why did you only come back _now?_ " She bored her eyes at him over her shoulder, wishing there was a human face so she could get a human reaction. The Guyver's face made her feel like she was talking to a wall. She moved, curling her body into a crouch, taut like a spring trap. The hands held her blades in a knuckle-white grip, threatening to break the hilts. "You ruined _everything_."

Mikasa couldn't recall a moment in her life where she had ever been so wholly, perfectly angry. Not even that moment in the cabin compared to this. This feeling of boiling wrath, fuelling her like a powerful drug, making her hyper-aware and hyper-focused. She couldn't feel the cold bite of the rain or the soreness of her muscles. At the current moment, she cared about nothing else but killing the creature that stood before her in the most painful way possible.

The creature that had so powerfully affected Eren's life.

" _Goddamn you!_ " No sooner than when the shout flew from her lips did the distance between them close again. Instead of swinging the blades, this time she rammed them forwards like knives (like that dagger into the man's back), aiming for the black flesh between the armour.

Yang's hands shot out, locking around the middle of the blades. He bent forward slightly while doing so, the tips of her blade coming to a halt inches from his chest. Closer now, his eyes cast a red glow upon Mikasa's face. She glared right back into them, with not a jot of fear, and she would have spat at him were she a crasser person. " _My_ fault?" He growled, sounding insulted.

"Yes," She hissed, trying to push those final inches but her blades refused to move. In contrast, the Guyver seemed to be barely trying. "Shiganshina, Wall Maria, _Eren._ It was all ruined because of _you_."

Yang made a sound and it took Mikasa a second to realise what it was: Laughter. He was laughing at her, the distortion of his voice making it a repugnant sound. "Do explain, sweetheart, how it's all _my_ fault."

An idea came to Mikasa, one that had every chance of failing as it did working. She had nothing to lose now, so what point was there of fearing? She detached her left blade from its hilt and leaned back, pulling Yang with her. "Because you left us!" As she did so, she raised her left leg and kicked out; aiming at the only thing she assumed was vulnerable: The metal orb in the Guyver's waist.

The sole of her boot connected and to her honest shock, it _worked_. Yang grunted in either pain or shock and stepped back, loosening his hold on her right blade. Just as she wanted.

In a heartbeat, she pulled it back and in the same motion spun anti-clockwise, blade whistling through the air, aiming for the black flesh of the Guyver's neck. The biggest exposed area. " _You left us all to the Titans!_ "

Yang raised his left arm, fist skywards. The blade connected and shattered, breaking in half, glittering pieces of metal indistinguishable from the rain.

Mikasa stared numbly at what was left of her blade and looked in time to see Yang take a step towards her, his right-hand a crimson streak. Pain flooded her jaw as if someone had thrown a brick at her. The world turned and she fell, rolled, and shot out a hand right when the roof disappeared under her. Dangling, holding onto the gutter, she pulled herself back up. Kneeling, she put a hand to her sore cheek, tasting blood.

He slapped her. She could feel the burn of his hand; picturing the red mark of each finger. Her mind whirled with fury, pain and sheer disbelief.

The Black Guardian had _slapped her!_

From atop the roof, his unbearable voice rang out cold and unfeeling. "Give it up, bitch. You haven't got a snowball's chance in Hell at beating me."

She looked up the slope of the roof, him standing at the top. In the grey, wet world, his burning eyes and shining blood-red armour made him look like some terrible demon ready to lay waste to the entire world.

He was above her. Beyond her. There was no hope of winning.

And really, what would winning give her?

Nothing.

But then, she had nothing to go back to.

Eren was gone, he was gone!

And Mikasa knew, if there were any regrets he had before death snatched him away, it would be not seeing the creature that stared down at her with no compassion.

"Eren waited for you. For so long. But you _never came back._ And he _never_ forgot you." A toxic swirl of jealousy mixed with her hate.

Her mind flashed with the image of Eren, turning away from her without a word.

"It was _you_." She hissed. "It was _always you!_ "

Leaving her behind, leaving her with _nothing_.

" _IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT,_ " She screamed, drawing forth new blades and breaking into a charge, " _EREN DIED BECAUSE OF_ YOU!"

Yang sidestepped her double downwards swipe easily. She then swung her left blade in a swipe and was met by Yang's outstretched left leg. Instead of shattering, the connection of their blade against his shin birthed sparks. She pressed on. Now using only his forearms, he stopped each of her strikes dead, each time birthing a spark that was purer than the hellish glow of his eyes. When she spun, aiming to decapitate him, he ducked. When he rose, his left hand jutted out to her face, the rough flesh of his palm slamming into her nose.

She staggered back before stopping, shaking off the disorientation. The movement sent drops of rainwater flying. Nothing felt broken but she felt a dull throb of pain and a trickle of warmth run from her nostril. There was now a good few feet between them.

It was hopeless. She couldn't win.

She hoped he would kill her and get it over with.

The world around her had lost all colour and fallen into a dull grey void. Only he, before her, had colour. The colour of death, a scarlet grim reaper, and she wanted him to take her away from this cruel world. She wanted him to take her to Eren.

So she barrelled forward, screaming wordlessly in pain and rage, not noticing how Guyver Yang now stood utterly motionless. When she got close enough, his right leg shot out and his foot collided with her forehead.

The world spun head over heels, her blades fell from her hands, and the darkness rose up to embrace her.

* * *

Estevan looked down at the girl, considering.

He wanted to leave her behind, very, very much. Or maybe he'd attract a Titan and watch her die, see if she'd have the audacity to beg for his help.

Decisions, decisions.

Rage kindled inside him, her words spinning inside his skull like a swarm of hornets. Those were what really angered him beyond her attacking him. She had blamed him, held him responsible for all that had happened to this world in the five years since they were last here. Blaming him for what had become of Eren.

Except it hadn't been five years for him and Josh. For them it had only been a handful of hours, maybe not even that.

One moment they were there, fighting _him_ , next they were shunted once again through that well of stars and impossible colours, and then finally they crashed into the outside of this town. Confused and angry, they were quick to see they weren't in the same area but saw that the same situation was happening.

It had been Joshua who insisted they investigate and Estevan had agreed only because he needed to vent. Furious that _he_ had slipped through their fingers yet again.

Why was he even thinking about this crap? What the hell gave her the right to _accuse_ him? This was bullshit. They had stayed, hadn't they? They'd saved her and Eren and his mother when no one else had. When that _coward_ had been willing to leave her to die. They had saved most if not the entire town's population from being left behind when they would have been left to die thanks to their shitty excuse of preparations. They had left to stop a threat that, if left unstopped, would have become a threat even _greater_ than the Titans—

—except—

—Except they _had_ left, hadn't they? Once they had moved all the remaining townsfolk, once they had felt _his_ power as surely as if _he_ were right next to them, they had bolted. Despite the holes in the walls, despite the Titans pouring into the lands, they had gone off to continue the fight they had started back in Washington—

Estevan shook his head, scowling deeply.

No, this _wasn't_ their fault. They had no way of knowing that these people would be so weak at dealing with the Titans, so underdeveloped and unprepared that they would be swarmed. How could anyone be faulted for not something they _didn't know_ would occur, feel blame for a situation that had _nothing_ to do with them? How could anyone feel responsible for a person they _barely_ knew?

The bitch was wrong. None of this was their fault. She and her lot were simply too weak.

Eren had been too weak.

Contempt rolling in his gut, Estevan turned and stepped towards the edge of the roof. Josh and the others must have made it to the HQ while this little dance had played out. Estevan recalled the amount of Titans swarming the place and decided he needed to hurry. He wasn't worried for Josh, knew the Brit could take care of himself; he'd just feel better if they were fighting alongside each other.

He stopped at the edge, his Unit expelling excess heat that dispelled the rain falling around him. His Gravity Controller (He had been _shocked_ when she kicked it) flashed and he was ready to shoot off—

—except—

He stopped, looked over his shoulder. She was still lying there, spread out on the clay tiles. She had yet to wake up. His Head Sensors picked up the sound of heavy footsteps, approaching from nearby.

Leaving her would be easy. He could spin whatever tale he wanted to Josh and the others, make her death sound as heroic or as sad as he desired. And even if Josh might suspect him, which he probably would, there would be nothing he could do by then. Dead was dead and, even for all the powers they had, bringing back the dead wasn't one of them.

They both knew that well.

So— _why?_

Why was something _tugging_ within his skull, telling him to help her? Why did he feel so violently _ill_ at the thought of abandoning her, even when she was a soldier? Why did he look at her, just her, and smell ash and death?

Ash and death. It was strong, overwhelmingly so, clogging his nose and making it hard to breathe. Just like-

He stopped dead. That way lay madness.

He turned fully, considering.

Decisions, decisions.

* * *

Mikasa hadn't returned, nor had the Black Guardian.

Down a Guardian and their best fighter.

Jean was suddenly very pessimistic about their chances again.

So far, the journey had been easy enough. Baring the Titans Mikasa had dispatched before her departure, there had been no sign of any others.

When they came to a stop, he could see HQ in the distance. He could also see that it was still very much overrun.

So his musings about them all being attracted to HQ had been right. He recalled one of their classes where they had been told, from info provided by a high-ranking member of the Scouts, that the more people collected in one area, the more Titans were attracted.

He just hoped they found Yin and his brother more appealing.

But his focus hadn't mainly been on that. The reason they had stopped stood in the streets below them: A male cadet, his cables laid out limply before him. He was making subtle movements with his arms and Jean could hear his ODM Gear make spluttering sounds. He was out of gas.

And Jean had been ready to help him. Really, he had been, but he froze when the guy was picked up three-meter Titan. Held firm in both hands, the boy's panicked cries were like razors in his ears. He couldn't move a muscle.

"Tom, hold on! _I'm coming!_ " Someone behind Jean yelled and he looked in time to see another male cadet shoot off to Tom's aid, followed by a girl. Jean cried out for them to stop, but his voice cracked, faltered piteously. The fist of another Titan snagged the boy while the girl was snatched up, held by another. Their efforts had rewarded them nothing.

And all Jean could do was look on, locked in horror. Locked in fear.

Then there was a sound like the very air being shredded and suddenly there was no sign of Yin. Then, the head of Titan holding snapped back with a great crack. Blood and teeth went flying as the mouth shot up skywards, its hands releasing Tom.

And, as the Titan _moved back_ from this blow, Jean saw Yin over its shoulder. Turning in mid-air with left leg extended, he saw the White Guardian reach out and saw Tom clasp the hand stretched forth to him. And then _both of them_ spun in mid-air, Tom screaming as he was flung around until the top of his head was parallel to the ground while the soles of his boots faced skyward. As this happened, Yin bet his body at the waist, kicking out both legs at the Titan.

Thrown back as if kicked by the Colossal itself; it crashed into the building Jean and the others were standing on and sending the structure rumbling. Chunks of stone and wood flew out into the rain but the building remained standing.

Jean was gawping. All that happened so fast it was a wonder he saw any of it.

Tom now hovered besides Yin, pale, looking ready to puke his guts out. The White Guardian then cried out, "Catch!", and then Tom was screaming and getting closer and-

"Oh shit!"

Colliding with him, prior accidents from training making the pain more bearable than it could have been, Jean grunted in pain as the back of his head smacked against the tiles while Tom's weight fell upon him. It must have made for a funny, and suggestive, sight. He was pretty sure he heard Reiner snort. "Get off!" He barked, shoving the boy off him. And just in time, too, for Tom promptly vomited.

Jean scrambled back to his feet, wanting to see what Yin would do next, swiftly recalling the two others in a similar situation. He was in awe, completely blown away by the power on display. None of the stories held a candle to this!

He was in time to see the air blur and distort in a path that started from Yin's mouth (or the area where a mouth ought to have been) and ended past the Titan's wrist. It was swiftly relieved of both hands as the flesh of its wrists became a cloud of dust and the girl fell, only to be swept up into the blue blur that Yin had become. Now running _along the side_ of the buildings, towards the Titan holding the male cadet in one hand, Yin held the girl in one arm.

Yin stretched out his left hand and (Jean _barely_ saw this through the rain) what appeared to be four small balls of blue light leapt from his palm towards the Titan. They didn't just fly, they _moved_ , manoeuvring themselves to impact with the knuckle of each finger. With explosions of flesh, blood and bone, the fingers detached themselves. And in that mess fell the boy. Yin caught him and, in a blink, he was back on the roof.

Jean was half-aware that his jaw was still hanging open, watching mutely as the White Guardian gently lowered the two cadets to the rooftop next to Tom. The girl quickly expelled the contents of her stomach while the boy rubbed his stomach, seemingly free from serious injury.

"I didn't know I could do _that_ ," Yin muttered to himself, looking at the palms of his hands, sounding genuinely amazed. "Gravity Bullets. Guyot's ability. Well, how about that?"

That sounded important, but Jean didn't have a clue what it all meant.

"Right, anyway," Yin clapped his hands and looked at them. "Let's continue, shall we?" And without waiting for a response, Yin turned and leapt off the building. Towards HQ.

Oh. Yeah.

 _Oh yeah!_

Shaking the torpor from his head, flinging drops of water from his wet hair, he yelled at the others who had been staring at Yin with either awe, fear or confusion. "Let's go! Stay close to the Guardian, leave the Titans to him!"

After what he had just witnessed, Jean didn't think that too selfish.

He leapt off the damaged building they were on and used a short burst of gas to get to the next one. Below, the Titans were too busy regenerating their hands. With a glance over his shoulder, he confirmed that the others were following him. Looking back forward, he saw that Yin was still within his line of vision.

Watching that not too distant figure clear a path to HQ for them, Jean felt his stomach twist. The White Guardian was everything and more than what the rabble made him out to be. Than what the military had dismissed him to be. He really was astonishing.

And what was Jean by comparison? Just some asshole, only able to watch while people died.

But Jean knew that now wasn't the time to be hating himself and pushed the thought away to yell out. "Give it everything you've got!" It was as much for himself as for the others.

In barely any time at all, they were hurdling down a street with three Titans dead ahead and Yin leading the charge. None of them had to worry about the Titans as Yin became a blue blur again, leaving a trail in the rain before the air cracked thrice with sounds like cannon fire, and all three Titans flew into the building they stomped besides. Jean flew past flying pieces of debris, daring to glance and see one Titan speared on spikes of wood that had been the floor structure to someone's home.

He would have felt sorry for the owners if he wasn't so preoccupied with surviving.

Landing on a rooftop, running, Jean felt his stomach clench as HQ loomed in the distance. Almost there—

"Jean!" Then someone fell in line beside him and Jean turned to meet Marco's smile. How he could manage that smile at a time like this, Jean would never know. "You really came through for us there, man! We own you big time!"

Jean couldn't think what the hell to say to that, so he stared blankly at his friend.

Marco wasn't finished. "I'm serious, don't shrug it off! We're alive because of you! Told you you'd make a good leader, didn't I?"

And Jean remembered a conversation he had had with Marco after a training session. Remembered it with a ghost pain from the scar high on his cheek.

And Marco wanted to talk about this _now?_ Seriously—

He gave his friend a brief smile before focusing on the path in front of them, on the edge of the rooftop closing in, on Yin flying unaided over the street. "Save that for later! We're not out of this yet!"

But they would be soon. HQ was only two blocks away and Yin was already knocking down the Titan with enough power to send them onto their backs and into buildings.

But Jean wasn't thinking about that. At least, not entirely. He was too busy being in awe of the power displayed before him. He wondered what kind of power Yin possessed to toss Titans around whilst being no bigger than a man. He recalled some of the tales about the Guardians, about how they could turn into sizes matching the Titans. Perhaps those sizes were their true height, and their human sizes were just their way of walking amongst people. Maybe they really were some kind of sentient, Abnormal Titans.

Or perhaps they were the Gods Floch proclaimed them to be.

They must have been because HQ was right in from of him and his future as an MP where he would _never have to see a Titan ever again_ was now all but assured.

He could do this!

Then there was screaming and Jean looked back in time to see a Titan close its fist, redness dripping from the creases between its fingers to mingle with the rain as the scream came to an abrupt halt with a haunting _crunch_.

" _DAMN IT!_ " Jean roared as he shot forth his cables and expelled a burst of gas. Expelled until his canisters spurted empty. HQ rushed to meet him, the air around him screeched in his ears whilst rain blinded him but he had enough sense to angle his descent accordingly. Legs stretched out in front, his arms covering his head, Jean made his probable last thoughts be of Mikasa.

There was a shatter of glass, a sudden lack of rain and screaming wind, and the world rolled head over shoulders before his ODM Gear punched into his back when he collided with a wall.

Ow, fuck, that hurt. He expected a bruise later.

But other than that, Jean could fell that he had not broken anything serious as he gingerly moved himself to a sitting position, looking back at where he had entered. At the single broken window. Through the hole of glass, the world outside was grey and wet. Inside, it was dimly lit and dry.

For a terrifying moment, everything was still. Jean felt a hand close over his heart because he must have been the only one left and _what could he do alone_ -

Then the other windows were smashed in, the ground littered with broken glass, and the sound of frightened children shattered the silence.

The fist in his chest unclenched, enabling him to breathe; Jean took in the sight of his fellow cadets. Those that were left. He watched as they panted and took moments to stabilise themselves, the adrenaline slowly draining away and leaving them hollow. He watched as Connie stood stoically by Sasha as she furiously scrubbed at her eyes. He watched as Mina vomited into a bin, Annie grimacing (sympathetically, he guessed) behind her. He watched Armin lean on a desk, face ashen and lined with sweat, Marco a nearby, comforting presence. He watched Reiner sheath his blades, looking solemn while Bertholdt stood nearby looking ill.

He watched Yin fly through one of the broken windows, landing gracefully on shards of glass. Everyone was too busy regaining himself or herself to be surprised. The metal orbs on the sides of his horned head were moving as he silently observed those present.

Then, looking at his feet, Yin's shoulder lowered as if burdened by some great weight. Quietly, Jean heard him say. "Another promise broken."

Jean stared, watching something revered as a God quietly mourn the loss of a single life. He wondered, then, if Yin had heard the cadet's screams as well as he had, could still hear them echoing in his ears.

The only comfort afforded to Jean was that he didn't know who the person had been. That they hadn't been someone close to his heart like Marco or Mikasa.

He noticed Tom kneeling on the ground with his friends, all overcome with emotion. He swiftly looked away. That heavy, curdling feeling returned to settled in his stomach as if he had swallowed a pound of dirt.

When he had caught sight of Tom on the road, all he had done was stand by.

When Tom's friends had been caught in a bid to help their friend, all he had done was watch.

When the cadet had screamed, a sound which would follow Jean long after he escaped this hell, all he had been able to do was run.

The only reason he was here now was from ducking his head, running, walking over the corpses of those less fortunate.

Jean wanted to live; he hadn't wanted to bloody his hands to do so.

Movement out of the corner of his eye brought him out of his dark thoughts and he could only stare at the two cadets, peeking out from under the desk beside him. A boy and girl of unremarkable features were staring at Yin. They had been so still before that he had hardly noticed them.

"Are you- Wait, are you two with the supply team?"

The boy twitched, turning from Yin to Jean. It took him a second to formulate a reply. "Y-yeah."

As soon as the word left his lips, Jean reached out and took the boy by the collar, yanking him to his feet. Once standing, he put all his weight into the fist he sent into the bastard's jaw. He went down and didn't get up, not that Jean had any intention of stopping there. " _YOU COWARDS!_ "

Marco, of course, held him back and Jean thrashed against his friend's hold on him. The black, swirling rage in his chest was unlike anything he had felt before. All he wanted to do was beat this measly little prick's face black and blue. "You left us out there! _People are dead because you didn't have the balls to do your job!_ " His voice rose to a furious bellow, bouncing off the silence of the walls around them.

The girl was by her comrade's side, tears crawling down her cheeks. "The Titans overran the supply room! There was nothing we could do!"

" _BULLSHIT!_ " Jean was nearly foaming at the mouth with fury. He could fell Marco's hold on him waning and he leaned forward, ready to lunge. The urge to shatter something _,_ completely and utterly, was overwhelming. "IT'S YOUR JOB TO DEAL WITH IT AND BACK US UP ANYWAY!"

A metal hand fell upon his shoulder, followed by a curt metallic voice snapping: "Enough!"

Jean's eyes whirled to meet Yin's impassive stare, meeting the crimson eyes without fear. Looking into those blood-red orbs, though, he felt his anger drain out like poison from a wound. Felt the absence of his fury leave him hollow. Marco gently unhanded him when his body sagged.

Calmly, as he removed his hand, Yin said, "Fighting amongst yourselves is the last thing you'll want in this situation. Besides, I believe she's not the one you want."

The White Guardian stepped forward, coming to kneel on the other side of the boy and placing a hand on his head. The girl stared at him in bated breath; tear tracks fresh upon her cheeks. "He'll be fine, asides a small headache. You, though-" Yin turned his burning gaze towards the girl and stretched out a hand to her. She flinched, drawing back, and Yin halted. Retracting his hand with a small sound, possibly a sigh, he said while gesturing to her face. "You're bleeding…?"

Now emancipated from anger, Jean now saw that the girl's features were not to plain. Splattered messily over the right side of her face, staining the Training Corps symbol on her uniform, Jean realised she was marred with blood.

The look of shock that briefly took her expression told that she had completely forgotten about the blood. Then, she remembered, and her expression crumbled. Weakly, as fresh tears cut clean paths on her dirty cheek, she uttered. "N-not mine…"

Jean didn't want to imagine what she meant. Idly, he was aware of the others watching. Listening. Perhaps waiting for a chance to claim their pound of flesh.

Yin, meanwhile, all but sagged where he knelt. After a small paused, he asked with an undeniable weariness straining his voice. "Who is in charge of this base? I must speak to them immediately."

"He- He's not here." The girl stuttered, struggling through her tears. As she pawed at her eyes, she managed to make the stain in her right cheek greater. "C-captain Voormin abandoned post not long after the vanguard and elite squads were wiped out. He'd be on the other side of the Wall now."

Yin might have said something, but it was drowned out by the collective cry out outrage that rang through the room. From every single cadet that had been in earshot of this horrible revelation.

Jean contributed himself, swearing loudly. "What the fuck?! Are you fucking kidding me?!"

Reiner's voice drifted from somewhere behind him, growing. "Everyone who died, all that _stupid death!_ "

"The captain abandoned us!" Screamed ever unreliable Daz. _"We're all gonna die!"_

"ATTEN-" Roared Yin. "- _SION!_ "

And Jean suddenly found himself clamming up, becoming ramrod straight as he snapped a salute along with everyone else. He glanced around, noting how he wasn't the only one who looked a little befuddled at what had just happened. Reiner and Annie, he noted, look rather embarrassed as they fell out of their salutes.

"Right. Last time I make you do that, I promise." Yin was on his feet now, the centre of every person's attention in the room. He no longer sounded weary. "Now, _please be quiet_. I'm still talking to this girl."

"Are you serious?!" Jean jumped at Reiner's unexpected eruption. He turned to see his friend's face creased with exasperated anger. "You made us do that so you could continue a conversation?!"

"I am gathering information," Yin said and, unless Jean's ears were deceiving him, his tone had become terse. "I need to understand what's happened so-" He stopped abruptly, the metal orb on the left side of his head moving sharply, and he then screamed. "Everyone, _GET DOWN!_ YOU!" He stabbed a finger at someone standing by the wall at the far end of the room, who froze. "GET AWAY FROM-!"

Whatever else Yin had to say was swallowed up by the explosion that rocked the entire building. The wall suddenly burst inwards, sending a plume of dust and a collection of wood and stone into the room. Yin threw out a hand and the head-sized chunks of wet stone froze mid-air before they could collide with anyone. The same could not be said for the cadet Yin had been shouting to as he flew through the air, falling into the Guardian's arms as he moved to grab him.

When the dust settled, and the stone fragments dropped, Jean was not surprised to see the drenched face of a Titan on the other side of the hole. So many people collected in one place, plus whatever the hell Yin was, they were probably salivating at the possible banquet. Another Titan pressed its face to the first one and, cheek to cheek, they shoved their faces into the hole.

Everyone erupted with panic.

Except for Jean. Well, not so much, anyway.

Even though his body locked rigid as everyone else ran over each other to get deeper into the building, almost losing control over his bladder, his gaze fixated on Yin. He watched the White Guardian gently lower the cadet to the ground before putting a hand to his throat, pulling it back a second later. He rose, hands curling into tight, trembling fists.

(Later, Jean would learn that the boy's name had been Stevens and that his spine had immediately shattered from the explosion.)

Then Yin sprinted, towards the Titans-

-his body became a beacon of blue light-

-too bright, Jean crammed his eyes shut-

-a sound of huge impact-

-the shatter of structure-

-and then what had been a hole in the wall was now a giant wound in the building's side, a portion of the roof gone and allowing the rain to drench the dry wood flooring. As if something large had burst through from _inside_ HQ.

And through the larger hole, in the rain, after a shudder of something heavy landing, Jean saw Yin rise to stand shoulder to shoulder with the Titans.

He could only stare, flabbergasted. How many times had his jaw dropped today?

Until the smashing of a window heralded the arrival of the Black Guardian. Jean whirled at the sound, saw Yang skid to a halt and saw Mikasa lay limp in his red and black arms. Almost immediately, Jean was moving in sync with Armin towards them, Mikasa's name falling from their mouths.

All at once, Jean was a believer. The Guardian had performed a miracle. The ultimate miracle. He had brought her back to them, alive and safe. Had brought her back to _him_.

The rain did nothing against Mikasa beauty. If anything, it highlighted her exotic features and brought a delightful sheen to her naturally pale skin. Her wet uniform, Jean noted sinfully, brought attention to her feminine form. She was every bit as lovely as she ever was.

"Here."

He _squawked_ when the Black Guardian all but shoved her into his arms. "Hey-!" He could feel his face burn like fire because she was so close and her beauty was overwhelming and with the rain she smelt divine and he was _so gonna lose it!_

And then Yang hollowed out his stomach by saying: "Make sure this idiot doesn't try killing herself again."

And, as the Black Guardian stomped towards the hole his brother made, Jean saw the mark on Mikasa's cheek (shaped like a handprint) and the wet streak of blood that marred her upper lip.

Looking at Armin, he saw the disbelief and fear that swirled in his chest mirrored perfectly on the blonde's face.

Then the room was filled with crimson light and now both Guardians stood a solid fifteen meters tall. HQ promptly started shaking with the sounds of them battling the Titans.

After a final lingering look at her face, Jean gently settled Mikasa down on a desk. He turned to Armin; saw the worry run rampant in his eyes, noticing those who had not panicked, how some of those others had returned to watch the spectacle outside.

"So, what now?"

* * *

Those willing to fight gathered by the lift that would take them down to the supply room. Those unwilling stayed in abandoned rooms, some curling up as though to sleep. Lit dimly by torches, those who stayed either stood/sat with friends or stood alone, waiting. That latter that stood alone held expressions of raw pain, shadows clinging to their eyes.

Like she was.

Mikasa leaned against the wall, her arms crossed, away from all others. She wanted to be alone. So much so she was sorely tempted to just leave and head to one of the abandoned rooms of HQ.

She didn't.

Because even alone, her failure would still be there to torture her.

She had woken up a few minutes ago, to the sounds like thunderclaps and tearing flesh. She awoke to see two Gods battle with the Titans through a hole. Yin and Yang had become the epicentre of every Titan's attention within the area, leaving them in HQ unburden. Save for those in the supply room.

Even this deep in the building, the walls shuddered faintly from echoes of the combat outside. Many of those who weren't fighting had chosen to watch the battle unfold. As if it wasn't obvious who would come out on top.

She was acutely aware of how damp her uniform and scarf was, clinging to her body. The chill was rooted in the marrow of her bones, like the roots of an old tree. To change uniform would be a futile endeavour. It was just a wet uniform.

She could bare it.

She was also aware of the occasional glance that was sent her way. Whenever she bothered to see the source, she was unsurprised to see most came from Amrin and Jean. She ignored them both after the first few times.

Just as she had ignored the whispers that flowed around her as they had all made their way to here, picking up the odd word: _Beaten. Reckless. Stupid. Suicide. Eren dead._

Mikasa grimaced, her cheek promptly throbbing with a dull ache. When she had awoken, she had quickly wiped away the blood from her nose and brushed aside all questions (Mostly from Armin and Jean) about her being okay. Asides from a ghost feeling of pain, she was fine. The failure, though, that burned like a brand deep in her chest, may remain like a terrible ulcer forever.

She would bear it, though.

She had no choice but to.

She rubbed her eyes, feeling traces of fatigue weighing on her, as though she had woken from a very long dream. Not that she could remember anything about it. Something about butterflies, maybe? All she could be sure on was that it had been as sad as it had been happy.

She kept her hands on her eyes, taking comfort in the dark they provided. The dark was a total lack of detail, a perfect void with nothing to focus on. A perfect place to remain and be lost.

Ah, but, it also mirrored the hole in her chest. In the place where her heart belonged. And now she could focus on nothing but that.

 _"Again,"_ She thought numbly. _"I've lost my family again."_

She could no longer consider Carla family. How could she? Carla asked only one thing of her, and she had failed, losing her only child. It would destroy Carla. There was no forgiving that.

 _"There's nothing left."_ Eyes closed, she leaned her head back against the cool wall behind her. Revisited the urge to smack her skull against the stone. Smack it over and over again until there was red. _"Nothing left to be taken from me."_

Except for her life, but that wasn't worth much of anything.

Just as despair coiled in her chest, ready to shatter what little of her was left, she remembered. Through the pain and hopelessness, coming forth from the darkest dredges of her memory, Eren's voice rang out loud and true: _"Fight!"_

Fight?

 _"Kill or be killed, the only way to live! You have to fight!"_

His words, _that day_. The day they met.

And just like on that day, Mikasa felt _something_. Like a pulse of lightning inside her body, dancing between every atom of her being, electrifying her blood. Her eyes snapped opened as she inhaled a deep breath, everything around her snapping into sharp detail.

She gave a quick headcount of those around her. On specific people. Connie, Reiner and Annie. Bertholdt. Mina and Hannah. Marco and Armin.

Armin.

Who would be there for Armin if both she and Eren were gone?

Who would be there for _Carla?_

What- _what had she done?!_

Giving up when she could still fight? Stopping when she should have only thought about moving forward, no matter what? That wasn't her at all. That wasn't what she had been taught.

And that wasn't what Eren had done, had it? He had gone down fighting. Right to the end. He had died protecting Armin and of course he had because that was Eren, and she was so proud of him. Carla would be too.

Carla will mourn and it would be horrible to witness, seeing such a powerful woman come apart, but Mikasa would be there to help her through it. It would, barely, be her paying Carla back for precisely the same thing all those years ago.

And she really should tell Armin that there was nothing to be sorry for. She would, once she was sure that he was safe. When they were all safe, because some of the people here were her friends, and she would ensure their safety. No matter the cost.

 _"It's what you would have done, right, Eren?"_

She kept that thought close to her heart as she descended to the armoury, warmed by the presence and banter of her friends.

* * *

Joshua had never suffered disembowelment.

He had been shot, stabbed, slashed, burnt, had limbs broken and once been partially flayed. All that and more, some happening more times than others, all endured thanks to the Guyver. Enough to put Grigori Rasputin to shame.

But this feeling that sat heavily within him, corroding his insides to the point where he felt like he would vomit blood, must have been close to that feeling. Must have been what it felt like to have a tear in the stomach, with one's organs trailing behind them in the open air.

Who knew guilt could feel this horrible?

Fighting the Titans brought no comfort. They lacked any kind of fighting skill, simply reaching out to grope blindly with large pawing hands. It showed how little they dealt with creatures their same size. It made fighting them boring.

It made killing them easier.

Comfortably settled into Wing-Chun, Josh smacked aside a pair of reaching arms and moved in close to deliver a flurry of blows up the length of an undefended diaphragm. He then sent the heel of his right hand into the Titan's jaw with a _crack_ , sending it stumbling back. As it did, he swiftly grabbed it by the back of the right leg and threw it head over shoulder. It had barely landed on its stomach before Josh reached down and tore a clump of flesh from its nape.

A spurt of blood, a hiss of steam, and the Titan shuddered before going still.

Straightening, he quickly dealt with a coming Titan via dropping low, spinning while keeping his left leg extended. He caught the Titan's feet, causing it to drop, then rose back up to kick it in its protruding gut. Josh saw displaced rainwater explode off its body as it skidded across the ground, leaving a trail in the cobblestone before coming to a stop near Estevan. He would dispatch it shortly.

The thrown left arm of a Titan was intercepted by his right hand, clasping onto the elbow whilst the hand took harmless purchase of his shoulder. His left hand joining the right, he twisted slightly and wrenched downwards, bending the Titan over with a crack of twisted bone. Holding it there with his right, the left pulled back to strike blow after blow into the Titan's face. Each movement of his fist bore shockwaves of rainwater, the Guyver's blue knuckles coloured red by steaming blood.

Blood. Red. The colour of death. So much death, just like-

He needed a distraction.

Joshua focused on the Square-Cube Law again. Currently, as he bashed the Titan's skull, he was fighting as though he were just himself, just Joshua Martin, without any assistance or input from the Guyver. Any and all extra power seemed to be tucked away behind some mental wall, perhaps so the Guyver could adequately function in this state.

That said, 95% of his body _was_ covered in metal more durable than any other in the Periodic Table, so striking the Titan even without using superhuman strength equalised to bashing someone's head in with a fire extinguisher.

The morbid turn of his distraction hardly surprised him. He's never been able to shut out guilt as easily as any other emotion.

When half of the Titan's face was caved in, Josh returned his bloody hand to its elbow whilst his right jump to its shoulder, kicking the Titan's feet from out under it whilst shoving downwards. His left hand slid up the trapped arm until his fingers were curled over the thin, nearly malnourished wrist. Keeping his hands firmly in their placements, he rolled forward, and the arm snapped under him like a dry twig. Jumping to his feet, eyes leaving a blurring trail, his left foot rose high before falling like an executioner's axe. His heel cut through flesh and bone and where the Titan's nape had been was now a bloody crater right to the ground under it.

The windows of nearby buildings shattered and the titles upon their roofs dislodged, a result of the displaced wind from his moving limb.

Josh winced, standing there in the rain, before reminding himself that it would be fine. The town was evacuated and once the situation had passed, the people should be able to rebuild. It would be fine.

Could he believe that, though?

Could he believe any of his half-minded assumptions after the results of this five-year gap?

Five years.

 _Years_.

It still left him as breathless as it did when Mina had first told him some hours prior, like someone punching him and leaving his body bereft of oxygen. His mind had whitened then, skull feeling like it was packed with cotton, and after gathering the roughest understand of the situation he had landed himself into, it had taken him a good few minutes to stabilise himself before he could think what to do next.

He had to think about what was next, about moving forward, because to look back would make him stumble and fall under the weight of his failures.

And then there had been that boy and girl, Franz and Hannah. One dead whilst the other tried fruitlessly to revive a corpse.

(Two more lives he hadn't be able to save, how many did that make now?)

The world had drifted away with a dull ring of white noise until even his mind, his only reliable tool, was too far away, too tinny in his ears, too drowned out because the girl's desperate sobbing for her beloved (he knew nothing about them, but her sobbing told him that much) had been _so_ _loud_.

Everything threatened to destroy him before; finally, he cracked.

Just a bit.

And he felt he had understood, giving into a fury that was almost world-destroying, finally gained a perspective on what Estevan did to-

"Hey!"

Flinching, Josh blinked and met Guyver Yang's crimson glare. Around him, around them both, Titans were converging. For every one they killed, five more seemed to appear.

"Don't just stand there! _Fight!_ " Aptly punctuating this statement by slamming his right fist into the face of a Titan, Estevan then backhanded another with his other fist and kicked a third onto a building with a loud crash.

Not style or elegance, just raw strength. Enough to blast a Titan's face to mush without actually killing it. Estevan was milking the moment for all its worth. If he had any feelings towards their situation, towards the people around them, he wasn't letting them slow him down.

It must have been so freeing, Josh reflected, to fight like that. To fight without conscience or fear. Without guilt threatening to tear him open.

Movement behind him. Josh turned, pushing his musing to one side where they would latch onto him later like a flea, raising his arms in preparation to fight-

Only for the Titan approaching him to be blasted by a fist. Strong enough to knock it off its knobby feet.

 _"Huh?"_

Josh looked to what the arm was attached to:

It stood at the same height as he and Yang, its form well-proportioned and much more physically fit than its fellows, sporting well-defined lean muscles in contrast of the potbellied or emaciated bodies of the others they had encountered thus far. Its face was markedly different as well, with a hooked nose, pointy ears and a hideous mouth of animalistic teeth that lacked lips and any sort of flesh around the cheeks. Its dark hair was long enough just to graze its shoulders, wet bangs clinging to the forehead.

Joshua stared at this Titan and immediately, his mind rang with the notion that this was something _different_.

The Titan gave a sound that might have been a sigh before its head snapped upwards and bellowed to the heavens. It was a wordless noise that still managed to bespoke of hate and fury. A primal sound that evoked a primal response from Josh, body snapping into a tense and ready stance, but the Titan stalked passed him without so much of a glance and begun to stomp on the Titan it had struck. Over and over. Until, finally, the head and neck up to the nape were a steamy, bloody mush pressed into the cobblestone ground.

Joshua was still staring, vaguely aware of Estevan doing the same thing even as more Titans came towards then.

The Titan turned to face him, eyes boring into him from deeply sunken sockets. They smoked with fury, a vast and seething rage. Those were the eyes of a thinking being, a creature with purpose. They were the eyes of a being with consciousness, the total opposite of the dull, dead eyes of all the previous Titan Josh had slain beforehand.

If that alone didn't all but confirm Josh's notion about the Titan, then it's act of surging forward, of _shoving him aside_ to grab a Titan creeping up behind him and roughly spin it around to tear out the nape with its teeth before proceeding to its next target, most certainly did.

And just like that, the spell was broken and the fighting reinstated from both brothers and Joshua was finally able to focus on something other than Eren's large green eyes (full of hope, full of trust) and the heartbreaking realisation that he had died without ever really living.

* * *

Jean put a cautious eye to the ceiling, watching as small clouds of dust fell from various points between the bricks. With each cloud came a great shudder that shook the foundations, echoed by a distant, muffled sound of something large and heavy falling. "At this rate, they might bring down the whole building."

Sitting beside, ever a comforting presence, Marco gave a light laugh. "Careful, Jean. The others might start to worry."

Judging by the hopeful, excited talks between cadets nearby, riding off the high of a completely successfully executed attack, Jean highly doubted that. A quick look around showed it was just him and Marco by the tanks they were refuelling at and barely twenty paces away, the Titan corpses were steaming away into nothing.

Jean didn't refute the others their happiness; hell, he was pretty giddy that they had managed to pull of Armin's plan with zero casualties. Minus a small scare thanks to Connie and Sasha's idiocy, which really shouldn't have been a shock because it was _them,_ everything had turned out alright. Now everyone was talking about surviving to see tomorrow, the despair that had once been weighting them down not even a full hour ago all but evaporated into nothing.

Jean reflected, as he filled his canisters with firmly steady hands, that he didn't feel nearly as elated as he thought he'd be.

He felt—

He wasn't sure how he felt. Sort of—numb, he guessed?

He couldn't stop thinking of how he had made it here in the first place. He had survived; despite the insurmountable odds stacked against him, Jean had managed to traverse the Titan infested ruin that had been his home and had made it here, in one piece. All his friends alive and well. Mom was safe on the other side of the Wall and the Titans would be taken care of by the Guyvers.

It was done, over, with no need or reason for him to put his life in any further jeopardy. Jean could live to see tomorrow, to join the Military Police as planned, could look forward to a safe, comfortable life.

So why did that sound _so wrong_ now?

Disconnecting his gas container with a low, metallic noise, Jean replaced it with his second one. As he started up the process for a second time, his ears echoed with a wet, crunchy sound. A body squeezed of life. The cadet whose name Jean would never know. Someone's son or nephew, brother or cousin.

A whole life wiped away in an instant.

Just like-

Jean grit his teeth, resisted the urge to shout with rage.

Damn it, _no!_ He was _not_ going to start getting all weepy over Eren Yeager! That suicidal maniac had brought his death upon himself, him and the rest of his Squad, nearly to Armin and even to Mikasa just by having to die!

It was not worth agonising over, that Eren had been the worst choice to lead a Squad. That, if someone else had led the Squad, Thomas, Nac and Myluis would be among them now. Mylius would be worrying over nonexistent injuries, Nac would be fussing over his stupid hair like the prissy little Sina brat that he was and Thomas would butt heads with Marco and their combined optimism would be to such a level that even pessimists like himself and Annie would have to smile.

And then Eren would be there to rub it in his face, the little bastard, gloating how yes, they could fight against the Titans. That yes, they could survive if they tried hard enough. That yes, they could win.

That, despite himself, Jean did have what it takes and was otherwise full of shit.

A harsh sigh passed through Jean's lips and words fell with it. "Never say that again."

He felt Marco's confused eyes on the side of his face and knew he needed to elaborate:

"You said I had what it takes to be a good leader. Well, after today, I think it's safe to say that I can't lead anyone worth shit, so don't say it again."

He knew Marco would remember. Sometime after the incident with Krista and the kidnappers, at the end of a typical day of training, a conversation had started up about good leaders for squads. Many voiced Marco as a more than worthy leader, even Eren, something that frankly should have been obvious. After Reiner, he was a perfect choice. But as they made their ways back to the barracks, Marco had privately told Jean that he believed that Jean would make a much better leader than him.

Jean could perfectly remember his disbelief at such a statement, brushing off Marco's words as ludicrous. Perfectly remembered the look on his friend's face when he did. He had started to say something, only to stop short and say that he'd understand someday.

It hadn't sunk in, whatever he was to understand.

Marco, didn't reply immediately. Then, as he began the process of filling his second canister, he said in that gentle voice of his. "Don't be mad when I say this, but…I don't think you're a good leader because you're strong. I think you're a good leader because you know what it means to be weak." Marco noticed the look he was giving and, flushing, chuckled good-naturedly. "You're one of us! You're scared out of your mind, like the rest of us. That makes you relatable, quick on your-"

"Bullshit," Jean called before Marco could get another word in, anger curling his lips. "Being scared is the worst possible thing for a leader to have. I mean, you saw Mikasa and the Guardians, right? No fear, no hesitation. And because of that, we had only _two_ casualties. If it were me, there would have been _ten times_ as many."

Jean knew this to be true. Knew it, because, when he should have been thinking of the lives of those around him, he had only thought about himself. And because of that, people had almost died, resulting in Yin having to step up in his place.

He must have looked so pathetic in the Guardian's eyes. Maybe Eren had been on to something. Maybe it was why Mikasa never gave him the time of day.

"Maybe," Marco said softy. "But you know what? When Mikasa and the Guardians moved, nobody followed. It was only after _you_ made the move that the rest of us did. And then, after what almost happened to Tom, we followed _you_. Sure, the Guardians cleared a path for us, but they weren't really on the same level as us. With powers like theirs, why would they need to be afraid of anything?

"And Mikasa, well. I don't think she was thinking of surviving."

Mikasa's reasons for doing what she did was something Jean did _not_ want to think about, so he obdurately didn't. Nor did he believe the words from the one person he trusted more than himself.

A warm and living hand fell upon his shoulder and he turned to see Marco's blinding smile. "You made good calls out there, got me running for my life. _You're_ the reason I'm here right now, alive and in one piece, so… _thank you,_ Jean. Thank you."

The sheer depth of gratitude in Marco's voice left Jean speechless, face burning. To run away from the swell of feelings in his chest, too big to name, he focused back on his gas canisters.

Before long, everyone had restocked and they were outside, flying through the rain and whooping in glee. Finally able to escape with their lives. Jean lingered at the back of the group, watching them go, and was ready to follow when he heard, "Armin?"

Mikasa. Turning, he saw Armin shoot up to a nearby rooftop be quickly followed by Mikasa. He went after, Reiner, Bertholdt and Annie trailing after him. Once there, standing with the two, they all fell silent to watch the spectacle unfolding before them.

And what a spectacle it was.

The area, once a market place surrounded by buildings in a square, was a mess; the buildings smashed with jagged wounds like broken teeth, the cobblestone ground kicked up and dented. The air was thick with the smell of blood and the rain kept the steam from dissolving Titan corpses from being like a thick fog

This meant that Jean, Mikasa, Armin, Reiner, Bertholdt and Annie had full view of the Guardians plus Titan demolishing each and every Titans that came within their reach.

—Wait a minute—

Jean focused on the only giant without a bright colour scheme and saw that no, his mind hadn't made a slip. That yes, there was indeed a Titan fighting the other Titans. And properly fighting too, throwing coordinated punches that landed with devastating effect. It was as big as the Guardians with well-defined muscles, a stark opposite to those it killed.

And here Jean thought the world held no more surprises for him.

"A Titan…killing other Titans?" Mikasa breathed, words dripping with disbelief.

"Must be an abnormal, right?" Bertholdt spoke up for perhaps the first time today, and Jean could tell that he had a nervous sweat upon his brow under the rain. "I mean, they come in all kinds of way, right?"

The Titan in question grabbed another by the wrists, twisting them until they snapped like thin twigs. It then jutted its head forward, slamming it into the Titan's chest and causing it to bow over. Moving swiftly, the Titan held it in that position and sunk its teeth into the nape, ripping out a chunk of flesh savagely. The other Titan fell to the wet ground dead as its killer roared in exaltation.

"Nah man, that's no abnormal," Reiner muttered tersely. "That's something else."

"I agree," Said Armin, blue eyes locked on the strange Titan, not missing a single moment. "Look at the way it moves, how it solely focuses on the Titans and not the Guyvers. Plus, look at its wounds, they're not healing. This Titan, something's _different_ about it."

Jean couldn't care less. A Titan was still a Titan. Bertholdt most likely had it right; it was just some abnormal. No doubt Yin and Yang were simply using its rage against its own kind to keep some of the pressure of them. If, and most likely when, it turned on them, they would dispose of it.

With that in mind, Jean said. "They've got this covered. C'mon, let's go before the Titans notice us." He turned and begun making his way.

"Hold on there, Jean-Boy." Jean twitched at the casual usage of that fucking nickname (one only his mother was allowed to use) and turned to glare at Reiner. The blonde's face could have been made of stone, not a whit of humour to be found. "Think about all we could learn from him. Not to mention, having an abnormal in our side would be a serious advantage."

"We've got the Guardians by are side," Jean said over his shoulder, more than a little baffled that Reiner was wasting time over a Titan. "I think we've got all the advantages we'll ever need."

"But what if they leave?" Jean turned fully to Annie, meeting her icy blue eyes. "What if they depart again with the job half done like last time? At least this way, we have something that can rip apart Titans better than cannons ever could."

Any colourful retort Jean had clogged in his throat like vomit. That was an incredibly valid point. There was nothing to say that Yin and Yang wouldn't leave again when all was said and done. That they would, the whole of humanity, be left wanting again for answers they would never get.

But—to rely on a _Titan,_ of all things—

A shout of effort filled the air. All eyes turned to Yin, caught from behind by a Titan throwing its right hand over his right shoulder while the left hand went under the left armpit to clasp the left shoulder. Held firmly, another Titan surged forward to bury its teeth into Yin's snow-white neck. Yin shouted again, underscored by the Strange Titan's roar of rage, and for a horrible second, Jean thought he was about to see arcs of blood fly through the rain.

But there was no blood.

The Titans sunk their teeth into Yin's neck at different points, but it appeared as though their teeth couldn't break the skin. Jean had overheard Tom regaling his experience with Yin to his friends, saying how the texture of his hand had felt like leather.

Grunting, shifting, Yin shoved the Titan at his front away enough to jut an elbow into it, sending it stumbling. Then stepping back, he slammed the Titan holding him into the building behind them, sending it to the ground under a heap of stone and glass. Now unburdened, he took all but a step forward to kick out a leg into the chest of the Titan that had tried to rip out his throat. The impact caused an explosion of displaced air and rain that had Jean throw up his to shield his eyes, ears filled with roaring currents. Underneath that noise, there was the sound of something skidding across cobblestones, climaxed by the sound of flesh blasting apart.

When Jean lowered his arms, he followed the skid marks in the cobblestone to Yang, the length of his extended crimson left arm steaming with Titan blood. Behind him, a building laid in sudden ruin, the headless body of a Titan within.

In between the two, the Strange Titan grappled with a new adversary.

Jean turned back to Yin just to see him smack aside a grab from his attacker from behind and then take a great handful of its body with his left hand, the pasty skin bulging between his sapphire fingers. Then, curling his right hand behind its knee, he swept the Titan off its feet and threw it over his shoulders. Left hand holding the legs and right hand over the chest, growling with exertion, Yin left them all gaping when he hoisted the Titan above him like a living weight, arms trembling with strain. It was only there for a heartbeat before Yin dropped to a knee, bringing the Titan's back down upon his extended knee.

Even Mikasa flinched as the sound of its spine cracking split through the air like thunder.

Yin's crimson eyes shot towards the Strange Titan, currently trying to prevent a Titan from cutting too deeply into its neck. The White Guardian then looked down at the now paralyzed but still living Titan splayed over his knee and then decided his next move: to throw it at the Strange one and its opponent, knocking both off their feet and crashing to the ground. Yin returned to his feet only to then jump, positioning his body parallel to the ground with his curled left arm extended. The point of his elbow came down like a spear on the Titan, right onto the nape.

The sound of Yin's impact back onto solid ground was nearly deafening, the world jumping underneath Jean's feet and throwing them out from under him. He was pretty sure he swore some colourful obscenities but his voice was deaf to him.

When the world stopped shaking, Jean picked himself up along with the others. Yin got up from the ground, the cobblestones bearing a scar from his landing, the area where his elbow cut through flesh and bone looking as though a vast explosion had gone off. The Titan, unsurprisingly, was dead.

The same could not be said the Strange Titan who, despite bleeding from the wound in its neck, quickly killed the crippled Titan. Once it did, it remained there, kneeling. Panting. A tired, sated predator.

Across from them, Yang grappled with the final Titan in the area. Slightly bulkier than the others, it held his face in both hands as if wishing to crush it, struggling as Yang snarled at it to _get off his fucking face._ Jean saw Yang curl his left foot behind the Titan, tripping it with him falling onto it. Yanking its hands off his face, he punched his left knee into its chest whilst keeping a firm grip on its arms. Then, he _pulled_.

"Fuck me," Reiner uttered tightly as Yang ripped both arms right out of their sockets, complete with a loud duo set of fleshy pops. The bones gleamed white in the gloom, stained with blood. Hissing and snarling like a beast, the Black Guardian proceeded to beat the Titan's face in with the blunt ends of both arms. Over and over and over. Jean watched on, nauseated, as the monster's skull indented and crumbled under each strike. When the Titan's face was gone, looking now like a steaming sinkhole of red mud, Yang discarded the arms and rolled the Titan onto its front. He held out his unfurled left hand, the fingers sharpened into claws, and swung at the nape. The building beside him, now ruined shadow of its former self, got a new layer of crimson paint.

On trembling legs, as Yang sat between a dissolving Titan's legs and tilted his crimson head upwards to the spitting sky, Jean reflected that everything that had just transpired had only been a bare handful of minutes. And now he could breathe and simply enjoy being alive. That the Guardian had come out on top.

Of course they would. They were the Guardians.

He was beginning to understand that.

When Yin broke the brief silence, his words were like a rumble of thunder. "Your hand," He pointed at his brother's sharpened digits. "You've got claws. How'd you manage that?"

Yang looked down at his hand as if he had only just noticed himself, the water that had collected on his metal face falling to the ground. His voice, too, shook the air, weighted with weariness. "Dunno. I just thought claws and, bam, claws."

Yin's glowing eyes looked at his own hands, flexing them. His voice thrummed with excitement when he said. "The Guyvers adapting. This is good, _very good._ " Then his gaze turned to the Strange Titan, still kneeling and heaving, and he made his way over with shuddering steps.

Jean watched along with the others, fascinated despite himself, as the White Guardian kneeled beside the Titan, a hand raised as if wanting to place it upon its broad shoulder. "He's not healing."

"So?"

" _So,_ " Yin's voice hardened at his brother's uncaring response. "It's not good. He helped us, he-"

" _Is a Titan._ " Yang almost seemed to have plucked the words from Jean's head, his voice hard as stone. "And you better kill it before it tries ripping out your throat."

Yin did not kill the Titan. His fathomless eyes stared at the Titan, who stared back at him. Jean caught a glimpse of its eyes, a burning green.

Yang sighed heavily, perhaps angrily. "Christ, _I'll_ do it." He rose from where he had been sitting, his other hand sharpening to claws. "Can't rely on you for- _GAH!_ " The Black Guardian's voice leapt into a shout of pain when something collided with his back, sending him crashing to the ground and-

-Squatting on his back with attenuated legs, a thin Titan took hold of Yang's horn and started jerking his head roughly-

-Yin's voice shot through the air, loud and fearful, "Estevan!"-

-Mikasa's hands became blurs of motion, flying to her blades -

-"That's-!" Armin's voice rose in pitch, face curdling with horror and hate. "That's the one that ate Thomas!"-

-"Thomas?" Reiner, quiet and horrified while Jean's chest burned with that black, swirling rage that wanted nothing more than to kill the Titan with his own hands.

And that rage was given a form, made into a sound: a bellowing roar rising deep from the Strange Titan as it shot off towards Thomas's murderer with blinding speed, trailing blood from its neck. The Titan had no time to react, its thin throat caught by two hands, hauled off Yang until its toes were barely scrapping the crimson armour of his back. Snarling furiously, the Strange Titan made the world jump under Jean's feet again as it swirled around and threw its prey onto the ground.

Coming on top, the Strange Titan slammed its prey into the cobblestones with a single hand encompassing the thin skull, grinding, digging. With its other hand, it took purchase of a cluster of flesh and tore it free, tossing it behind it. Then a half a ribcage. Then an arm like some giant twig. Blood squirting high, splattering the ground and its lipless jaw, the Strange Titan screamed in ecstatic.

It was a real monster, Jean reflected. It was all rage and hate given flesh. It was his own black hatred given claws and teeth. It was humanity's rage, embodied.

Pinning the remaining hand to the ground after it tried to claw at its face, the Strange Titan ducked its head to the hole it had made in its prey side. Biting, tearing, _chewing_. It pulled its head out with a mouthful of gore, tossing it aside to splatter the ground crimson. Then, with its hands, begun to hollow out the Titan, pulling apart the ribcage entirely and tearing out the remaining organs.

For a long moment, all was silent save for the sound of mutilated flesh.

Then, the Strange Titan drew back its left fist and drove it into the Titan's face. It's entire skull exploded in a wash of gore, teeth and grey matter. Jean saw one of its eyes, half as big as himself, bounce across the cobblestones and turned away to vomit. He heard something large move and a tear of flesh.

Wiping his mouth, he turned back to see the Strange Titan pull itself upwards; head bowed with eyes hidden beneath its hair as it heaved for air. Its left arm was a mangled mess painted with blood, a shock of white bone jutting from the elbow. The wound on its neck and other small tears bled lazily, running to mix with the blood already splattered over its body. Then, its head turned towards the heavens and it _screamed_.

Jean felt an almost instinctual fear fill him like icy water as he stared at the blood-stained monster, watching as it shrieked in rage and victory. "What was that about us relying on him?"

Predictably, there was no reply.

Then, with no warning at all, The Titan fell, collapsing face-down against the cobblestone walkway. It took Jean a moment to realise that it was dead.

Oh, and that the rain had finally stopped.

Releasing a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding, Jean looked at the others. They all looked like someone waking from a long dream. Armin looked almost disappointed. "Right, well. That's that. No point hanging around any longer. Let's get going."

He turned to move, hearing the others step in line behind him and heaved a sigh of relief. Thank God, no complaints this time. Behind them, he heard the Guardians talk to each other, but their voices were distant to his ears. He couldn't stop looking at the Wall, his salvation, dead ahead and not so unclimbable now.

He knew that those killed Titans were only a small handful of the rest that had invaded Trost, but they were a problem the Guardians could deal with. Right now, he and his friends could finally-

"Wait a minute."

Yin's voice, like a rumble of distant thunder, and Jean stopped despite himself and turned back. But Yin wasn't talking to him; he was kneeling beside the Strange Titan's steaming corpse, hands turned to claws and gently tearing at the flesh of the nape.

Jean's face scrunched up in confusion, squinting, trying to see through the thick haze of steam but all he could see was Yin's burning red eyes. What was he doing?

The White Guardian sunk his left claws into the nape and pulled away with a handful of flesh. He turned his hand to look at whatever was in his palm and Jean watched, stupefied, as Yin's head jerked back with a sharp sound of shock.

"What?" A sound Yang heard and he made his way over, each step shaking the foundations. "What is-" He stood by his brother, looking over his shoulder and he too stopped, jerking back with an uttered. " _What the fuck?!_ "

Yin's eyes turned to them and his body became a beacon of blue light, forcing them to look away. There was the sound of movement, of something landing in front of them, and when he could, Jean opened his eyes to see Yin standing before them.

"I believe this belongs to you," He said softly, holding out the _person_ in his arms to Mikasa.

It was Eren- _Goddamn_ -Yeager.

* * *

This is the second moment that defines Trost for Jean Kirstein:

He stands in the ruin of his hometown, wet to the bone and cold, staring as the first ray of the sun finally broke past the grey barrier of the clouds above, as Mikasa Ackerman wailed into her brother's chest.

Jean had never, ever heard Mikasa cry before. Not once. Some part of him often thought that she couldn't cry, couldn't show such a weakness. And now that he saw that yes, she could, he found he never, ever wanted to see her cry again.

Tears were trailing down Armin's face but that wasn't surprising at all. "Eren…" He mutters in sheer disbelief, awe, denial, moving forward to collapse at his friends' sides. Jean watched as his forehead gradually fell upon Eren's shoulder and arms wrapped around them both. Mikasa didn't push him away. "How is this…Eren, what happened to you…?"

All of them stared, silent, utterly mute at this impossibility. Glancing at them, Jean saw that Reiner, Bertholdt and Annie's expressions were a mix of horror and disbelief. Annie, he noted, was as pale as the white flesh between Yin's armour. Looking past her, past Yang who remained in Titan size, he saw the Titan corpses were all but gone.

"Eren…did this?"

Eren Yeager, who had been said to be dead. By his best friend, no less.

Eren Yeager, who hated Titan perhaps more than anyone within the Walls.

Eren Yeager, who had somehow _become_ a Titan in order to fight the Titans.

The irony of that is so massive, as colossal as the Colossal Titan, that Jean would have laughed if he didn't feel so dumbfounded.

What does it all mean?

"It means," Flinching, Jean looked to Yin, dimly realizing that he must have spoken aloud. The White Guardian wasn't looking at him; he was staring at Eren, had been staring at Eren the whole time.

The metal orb in his forehead flashed with otherworldly power.

"It means everything has gotten much more _complicated_."

* * *

 **And done!**

 **Right, so, things to talk about:**

 **1\. Jean. I might as well have just had that be the chapter title, he does kinda own this chapter. But most seem to forget how much Trost impacted Jean's character, and more the fact that Trost was his home, so I had a lot to work with. Plus, he's** **so much fun to write! Seriously, this was another thing that I can believe I didn't take advantage of in the old draft!**

 **2\. Mikasa. This time, I allowed her to grieve. That, again, was something I was stupid to remove from the original. And before some of you raise your pitchforks and say _'her rant to Yang was out of character',_ recall this: This moment for Mikasa is _the most emotional we ever see her_ throughout the series entire run (before Chapter 112, that is). I'm not saying that she's a dull character, I'm saying that this moment was her at her lowest and rawest emotionally. ****Unlike the original series, though, she has something that she can take her anger out on.**

 **3\. The weather. Two reasons: 1) I never liked how, in the anime, it only rains for a short while before suddenly breaking into sunshine. It seemed too sudden, like a few of the things the anime added. 2) It served as a nice thematic theme for this chapter's plotline.**

 **4\. Titan fights. These were actually more difficult to write than anticipated, mainly due to the face that Titan's don't actually fight. They just sort of grab at anything they can get their hands on. I used the bathroom fight for _The World's End_ as a blueprint, basing the Titan's off the Blanks. (Check the movie out if you haven't seen it!)**

 **Also, props to anyone who finds the _Lost Girls_ easter egg!**

 **Nothing else to say here except please tell me what you think and see you in the next chapter!**

 **Till then!**


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